Do Not Do

I’m reading about Taoism
and the Way
and the do not do

sitting here, trying to keep
so very still, till the blood slows down
and I can feel my bones start to re-grow.
So that the other parts of me
will have a chance at the steering wheel for awhile.
Will know what it feels like to navigate
the complications
that I have laid like tiny mines
up the staircase.

This is my Do Not Do.

Except for the tiny details I can’t seem to
erase from the attic hatch
of my memory where you lay
like a ragdoll
propped up against a toy chest
filled with vials of clear dripping liquid,
runes, cloth sacks of henna,
a skeleton key, a jar full of river water,
a lock,
snakeskin and that leather journal with the dog-eared pages
that I’m keeping for later.
But I’ve saved enough space in there, in that wooden chest
for me, thank god.

I’m falling
and while I’m falling
all I promise is that I will hit the ground.
Everything after that is yours.