When Margo leaves the paper town,
it is not an act of rebellion.
When she leaves behind a
Walt Whitman poetry collection,
wounds highlighted in blue,
she is not trying to be mysterious.
Maybe she wants to be found.
Maybe she doesn't.
Maybe she is just too much
of a good girl,
limbs folded uncomfortably
to be invisible in an enveloped
cul-de-sac.
Maybe she is tired of all the old stories
peeling off from the walls.
Maybe she is tired of the old book smell, the small crinkle of
doggy-eared pages.
Maybe she just wants to be
bioluminescent.
~ c.w
