She has an oriental heart-
inscrutably quiet
when viewed
with western eye,
or perhaps that stereotype's
too clever,
like my subconscious,
smarter than I am.
Each compass point watches
this needle. It spins
within the quiet flesh,
where an angle can offer
direction or diversion.
I don't need to know
where each stab leads;
just,
a glimpse of sun,
a marker on trail,
something to gather
where I am.
No destination or future
is required, to be comfortably
lost in now.









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