Where do I fit in?
The question stuck
like a refrigerator magnet--
mocking me
every time I opened my mind.
The unused corners.
Kneeling in the dust,
prayers in the cobwebs.
finish line tape
piled in unmarked boxes
Inspiration glowed above me.
I felt someone love me,
but my hands would not reply;
what's the use
if I can't fly?
The clouds
have already claimed the sky.
