Poetry | Matthew Nienow

You ever feel like your soul is twisted 

up in a funny knot you don’t remember 

tying? Some shit must have gone down 

while you were blacked out & moving 

about the world, some lowly worming, 

likely: i.e. inching closer to any 

interesting woman just to see if you might 

be lure enough to light the want in her eyes, 

i.e. practicing your subtle magic & then 

going about another day as if nothing 

happened. Uncork some spirits & 

collaborate. Smooth out some of the kinks 

in your heartsleeve. Unravel if you must. 

Daylight is another world & for now 

the night is doing you all kinds of favors. 

Lick a cheek & go wild, you godless scrap. 

Mount the escarpment for a better view. 

Forget the why of the ascent & cling 

with your life to the smallest holds. Don’t 

ever downclimb. Don’t you dare

give regret an inch, even if that 

scramble to the edge almost kills you.