Poetry

At the End of the World, Turn Left

Nowhere has to be somewhere

but somewhere between here and there

we lost our way again.

You joked that you “know where”

this nowhere was

and I smiled with a bloody lip.

We didn’t know where we were

or where we would end up

and the map we drew

cut off the roads to Rome.

Was this the beginning or the end?

No, where was this going?

Know where this was going.

The path lay straight ahead

but the ditches looked like fun.