I am becoming
the flourisher I said I would be
My body,
tempered by early mornings,
yawning, stretching arms and legs
of yoga
and quiet scripting

Words that
claim
state
and end with . and !,
not ?
flow from my bedrock

Fear, always lingering
dammit
crouches
awaiting pity parties, drama,
and dilemma

! But

Simplicity, humanity, and
courage stand ready, with
sheathed swords and
an opened-inch glint
at their sides

With an architect’s score,
my life, with its scaffolding
and hard hat areas,
continues to be built

I now use heavier woods,
thicker steel,
and vintage purple glass

My life is breathable
It sits open
for love
criticism
and curiosity,
waiting for engagement

It sits
perfectly incomplete
at 27
gaped
unfinished spaces
that let the wind –
pull the wind –
not around it,
but through it