I rolled over onto the space you do not inhabit
and fell through the bedsheets to the floor
at the bottom of the cave in my chest,
the one I account for in my every interaction,
brushed myself off and wondered where the exit
is, what song will play when I escape the shadows.
And yet, perhaps it’s less complicated than it seems:
maybe I’m only practicing, learning what to expect
when I finally fall headfirst.

By Heidi Turner