Still Moving

I turn without knowing why

feet catching the rhythm of a city

half-awake half dreaming

A man passes me with a jacket

too large and a look like he’s carrying tomorrow’s news

but not telling it yet

My fingers flex empty but restless

like they might remember something

if I just let them

Somewhere a door closes shuts sharp enough

to prick the quiet open in my chest

I want to say something

maybe I even try

but the sound disappears

before it reaches my lips

I think about the last sentence I didn’t finish

and how it hangs there

waiting for a reason to fall apart

The sky sits low and uncommitted

neither holding back nor rushing forward

I keep going

one uncertain foot then the next

in the space between what I had

and whatever waits to be made