Decision to Change

Poetry
A move to Toronto

When the senses fleur—taste buds, finger tips,
a flicker in the corner of the lips—
something so quick, so low, then very slow,
something you don’t even know you know
wakens a reception you don’t know you have,
until you start to deny it. You might even have
to protect yourself from it, if you’ve been
shutting yourself off from the unseen
since childhood. But this is the real adventure
of adulthood: mere indenture to fact
finally reaches its limit and you can act
without looking, pricking your ears to the sound
no one else seems to hear through the air
              but you, all on your own.

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