I think backwards
and see my journey
for the mixed-up tracery
of those who were chosen
for great things.

My mistakes
involve aiming low,
sinking lower,
and it’s a fine recipe
that leaves me
smooth and creamy
in the face of cruelty.

We set sail
at the edge of a meadow,
fragile stalks belying
the lush promise
we weren’t meant to know.