grip the moving scion

by Myles Bramble

I've seemed to forget who I was
Naturally.

I have walked through the forest
behind my grandmother’s home
And landed in new territory
Only around the corner.

I may seem afraid
My friend calls it excited
I'm worried that he is a fraud
I'm not too worried.

And I’m still here on the other
side of a tiny forest
Bottom of a baby cliff
Playing with my white quite large marching band drum sticks and the air.

(I worry) I will forget again
to express myself like this again
Get lost.
End up at the bottom of a sheep skin rope
with only my fingers by my neck
to keep the oxygen passing through

Neck expands
And with each breath has found more room to wiggle
Like the perpetual motion of freshly awakened feet
And the brain
And all that movement
And all that between