step left, right.
Walk on a line
someone drew in pencil
on textured card stock. You
thank God the line wasn’t drawn on
a Hallmark card. You
couldn’t handle such shallowness, such
bite the inside of your lip
run your tongue along the pinched flesh
remember that one day the line will be drawn
deeply on the folded and textured circumference
of your heart. A line that will become
so beaten and worn
like leather, a new skin
ready to be filled with wine.