Elsewhere burns

Elsewhere can’t be reached our steps are born, buried— here

It’s not a fairy tale It waits at the edge of a train track A café, not a house-- A kiln, not an oven

I followed coffee beans, not breadcrumbs women, not witches money, not sweet words

In its fire I meet myself— glazed— until it cracks— another else— unborn

I can’t outrun here. I pour dark coffee—

I burn