I’ve reached that tilting edge where life behind
stretches the length of hours I still expect.
I can’t, or won’t, or shouldn’t be defined
by what’s remaining on a list unchecked,
a list ordered by how to be aligned
with the behavior others deem correct.
With too much straight and narrow, I’m bone dry,
I’m ready to release my rally cry.

Malinda C. Miller

If you have any comments on this poem, Malinda C. Miller would be pleased to hear them.