Directions

I asked for directions
more than once, and more than once
you refused to show me the way.

When I told you I had no idea
where I was going,
you pointed me in the opposite direction
from where you stood.

I thought I saw you 
in my rearview, a smudge 
at first, like a fingerprint on an x-ray,

then a dot, a small clot on an echo 
of my heart waiting to break loose
and travel in one direction
through the cloverleaves of my arteries,

then I thought I saw nothing at all
even though the mirror told me
objects are closer than they appear.

Kip Knott | One Day
Contents | Mudlark No. 50 (2013)