for Pat K.

She called my writing courageous
I tried to climb inside the word
Wear it like a second-hand jacket
which once held stories that were not mine
but now would only know the slope of my shoulders
and the place my elbows bend

Wanted desperately for it to fit
Turned it over in my hands
Traced all the stitches with my fingertips
sure I’d find it falling apart at the seams

But it was true enough
It fit well enough

No matter how well I know
it’s all about the things
still layered underneath

Feelings there are no words for

Not yet