Apolonia Station

A Poem

Sliding into newness,
my knees buckle just a little,
heart’s eye seeking out the nearest saint.
The ground has that liquid feel,
like it’s been raining for weeks,
and everything’s forgotten
how to be dry and solid.

There’s a tiny tornado
just behind my eyes.
My mind knows I’m on the path,
hips still in committee.

Tried to fill the void
with empty calo…