Something I’ve not done
Is following me
I haven’t done it again and again
so it has many footsteps
Like a drumstick that’s grown old and never been used

In late afternoon I hear it come closer
at times it climbs out of a sea
onto my shoulders
and i shrug it off
losing one more chance

Every morning
it’s drunk up part of my breath for the day
and knows which way
Im going
and already it’s not done there

But once more I say I’ll lay hands on it
tomorrow
and add it’s footsteps to my heart
and its story to my regrets
and its silence to my compass