365 Poems – 181 That Chance (Rough First Draft)

That Chance

I drag the sun behind me,

and press on, inhaling

words, trying not to think

of that famous chance I had

to change everything.


That chance to escape

to the trees, and that house

with wooden walls and floor.

Where I would wake up,

not with a smile in my pocket,

but where it ought to be,

between my nose and chin.


Now, I drag the sun behind me,

and avoid interacting

by pretending I’m intrigued

by the shadows it leaves behind.