Where Directions Fray

The arrow leans without weight,

and the wall holds its breath.

Where you were going,

you have already arrived.

The folds remember light

as if it were a story
no one told,

the rust listening for something else.

Signs forget their names

and wear themselves down

into the silence you carried here
before you knew it was yours.

Nothing points,

nothing stops.

The way follows
itself
through you.

Peaks Island, Maine

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