By: Gracie Williams

I belong in cold strolls of solitary reflection
with grim and industrial cobblestones
grinding under worn, monochrome boots

I exist in mad morning poetry
A rambling voice disrupting the isolation

It interrupts the placid frosty dawn
smacking the air
And introduces a place to be
That has always been there

I belong in a coffee foam, hot burn existence
sniffling for reasons other than a change in brain chemistry

Now I sit in a vehicle
Muddy and bitter
Kicking the doors
Denting the metal
Living in this hell of a time

But I still belong

I bust out
look down at the cracked bricks and pavement
the auras and blood-browns
of the native cowboy clay

The ripped coats and bitter cold
The dirty coins clanking in hats
The yellow eyes

I still belong

I inhabit somewhere that is true
To the self
To reality

I belong

In that world and no other