Slip out the backdoor, past bare lawn, through nervous lamp pools, jump the fence, don’t fall, not again, cloth tight against skin, cover the tear, hold back growl of night, rattle, rattle a crescendo for the open space held so long, don’t, push it away, away through the dark back through the gaping wound of the door whispering up the stairs a creak never heard, back brushing smooth dirty walls once white in the light and the dark into the room shoved in the closet and left to rot. Think no more, rush to embrace open air, down, down lightly land with a grunt to the old paon, an old name never heard, not by these ears, not again, clutch hand to thigh, hold back the air, not a sound in this empty place, dry, not before, now dry, broken dreams strewn on the walls scream in bright color demanding to be seen, no, not by these eyes, step forth sharp slap, sole to concrete rushing into the other dark, thicker, concentrated in a circle, an escape from them and the dark, different dark, not the one that surrounds not the one with refuge for the daring and the lost, the one lurking a thing in itself, deep, deep within, insidious and alone waiting to dampen and encircle the light.
Into the tunnel safe in the arms of the earth turning, not around but within and away from what was and what wasn’t pouting pain into muscle faster and faster never a stop or a stutter. Never look behind. Gone. Gone and away only to be.