Lines Left on The Cutting Room Floor - January 20, 2019 (Birthday Version)

Detachment carves a lack into a line.
Curled on either side, a farewell waits
to force a fledgling language to be built.

The narrow slit through which you try to fly
becomes the compromise you need. Imply
what you wish. The work’s beginning, careful, poised,

shapes the last disparity your words
erase. Embrace those weakened wings; forgo
the skies. Know this: obstacles aren’t lies.