this is the part, the part of the part
where you let things go, or let go of them,
or let them lie where they are or
where they were, expand the distance from
where you are, those things you’ve flown over
a thousand times, things in your way
you keep going around, things you’ve
worn down with your little wheel, places
in you that wouldn’t heal, your preoccupied
imagination, failed transformations,
the crossed bones, the loaded dice, the empty
gun, the other vice, insults, results, scrapes,
the surfeit, the lack, the slow escape, that
lackadaisical mac, the knife, the spoon,
the padded room, the barely hanging on,
the day you knew that what you loved was gone,
bad men, bad friends, bad penny, bad bets,
the creepy boss, the rack, that slamming door,
on your knees to scrub the floor, whatever
you can’t count on, the pas de deux, that
pied a terre, the dope, the rue, the drift,
what you faced down, what you can’t face,
the face you had, your current face,
move on, move out, let go of the more
you wanted and what you couldn’t have,
there’s the river, there’s the bridge, wherever
you are, you’ll not be there again.