Every morning I open my eyes
and my legs stretch across the room,
waiting for me
to walk them somewhere,
anywhere but where I am.
I pound my feet in to the pavement,
push myself for miles and miles
and end up in the same place,
licking the salt from my skin
and dreaming of wider tomorrows.
I want to cut my roots
with a sharp blade,
and dig my toes in to the soil
in a place where I can
catch the sea salt on my tongue,
uncurl to my full height,
wear the clouds like a hat.
I’ll run towards the horizon
until the Earth falls out from under my heels,
until the only person who can catch me