This all is a script about plotting.
An achingly slow clock. Poetry
makes me want to be outside.

Perhaps what is best is how
words move me to a surface,
but I remain in my Arctic superego.

What I mean is I am thinking
of what people will say
to me, to each other. A plot.

A whole movie inside my head.
I act in it, not knowing
what I’m doing.

(originally published in Avatar Review, Fall 2021)