No matter how many mirrors are arranged together
When you turn away, do they?
Are they always following you like that?
Or perhaps the opposite is true –
The loss that roots within every gain
Roots grown deep below the parties
Of Florida mangroves
In fractured nocturnal wonder
She doesn’t want to participate in the mess
All things come to this – she can only run the things.
And run and run and breathe and breathe
But after awhile, everyone has to stop running (which doesn’t mean stop breathing)
Though it may translate into growing gills and becoming
These things we thought we shed when we were born.