tell me to write to you
as i did with the old poet
and my words may dry up
old leaves devoid of color
crumbling
carried off in silent winds
tell me to dance
and i may stumble
all left feet and untied laces
face down on scruffed old dance floors
while at night, alone
the music often fills
and moves me with grace
tell me to recreate the wheel
and i may catch
choked by the spokes
wrapped around my neck
while old memories spin me
away
from me
buried in rusted steel
and splintered wood