Untitled Poem

(untitled)

Who am I anymore?

Now that I’ve escaped anything

worth worrying about.

The spire of the architecture

atop the grand old theater

looking out across the city

and out to sea

seems to be catching the

sunlight in a way that

escapes a day of the week:

that light and that blue and cloud

could be a Sunday

could be a Wednesday,

could be a day

a thousand years from now.

The sight of it is making my body

feel like it’s floating

this late date,

denoting I’m part

of what is timeless; making me ask

who am I anymore? Now that

I’ve escaped; now

that I’ve escaped.