Before loneliness felt wrong.
You wanted long sentences hell bent on disorienting,
drawing you in and turning your insides inside-out,
triggering spontaneous memories of the times you broke
branches to travel through the thicket in the back forty,
your leafy tunnel into yourself, before loneliness
felt wrong and before you couldn’t shake the feeling
of wanting more, before more seemed possible,
there was this thicket, just, you and yours.