The Realization

I can only imagine that my future is forged of wrought iron –
tangles of metal looping and lacing upsides and downsides and sideswaybound

to twist and bloom into something else entirely.

Somewhere I forgot what it was like
to be heated and bent
cooled and sealed

and how these horrible sounding manipulations
seamlessly fit in the giant map of my lifeline
in the palm of my hand

and how comfortably the idea of a wrought iron, twisting life
hangs on my wall.


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