homesick

since my arrival
i have found myself
unwilling to let go
of my San Francisco
who built a womb
around the fetal position
she found my body giving in to

so i've kept a secret quiver
loaded
with greater than
and less than
symbols
my chalk outlines
of dead arrowheads

i find myself pausing
at street corners
and cafe counters,
bridge crossings
and grocery store registers,
to place these side lying v's
like flowers of mourning
with their wide side facing west

and i know it's time
to take a trowel to each one
fill it in
with wet cement
and drag my finger through it
to engrave my lovers initials
next to mine

i know this isn’t when
i should be choosing to crouch
beneath the shelter of these acute angles
keeping myself from the other side
where these angles are sprouting
feathered tails
becoming fresh arrows
telling me where to be
and showing me where the next place
will have to live up to

so New Orleans,
you need to know
it isn’t you,
it’s me






wb