These are the places only she knows while

counting soul shifts in the movement of her wild rhythm.

There in the in between spaces where a throat clears into a cough

where no one hears the misstep as loudly as she does in her own ears.

There in the play dough thudding drum roll empty moldable way

that her tongue tries to form the words to a song she can’t remember.

These are the places only she goes.

These are the places only she knows while

sitting without breathing hoping loudly her wild chest won’t sing.

There in the laughter where her sighs get drowned out

where no one knows the sound of groping breaths and sharp inhales.

There in the sweated palms lines drawn etched deep down

her curses puddle in the creases on the long river to the ocean.

These are the places only she knows.