There is no Safety Here

this morning
in the garden
your words fell out
your mouth opened
and ran out
of things to say
light abandoned
every corner
you went hard
into the spaces
hid away
you became
another voice
in the wind
no one notices
when the snow
begins and the motels
close and none of the roads
lead home
and none of the homes
even have roads
that could take you there
this morning
you collapsed
in on yourself
and only the air
felt your falling.

JAMES DIAZ is the founding editor of the literary arts & music journal Anti-Heroin Chic. His work has appeared most recently in HIV Here & Now, Foliate Oak, Chronogram, and Apricity. His first book of poems, This Someone I Call Stranger, is forthcoming from Indolent Books (2017.) Read other articles by James.