You Cannot Yoke Me

You cannot yoke me –

I am a wild thing.

You can lure me close with comfort and compliments and companionship, and one day

I’ll lift head from feed-filled palms,

see fence, bridle, hitching post

and scatter.

I like to say there will be a warning,

but promises and how to make them and how to keep them

never made an impression

on self-serving independence.

You wouldn’t know me at a glance.

As changing as the cold front,

bringing in blizzards, and you shiver,

but as soon as the sun comes,

I’m gone.

I can’t say I like it this way

– grinded cold metal between my teeth four years straight –

I tried.

sleepless nights prostrated tile floor bloody bathroom scenes.

Scars made me and calluses

never quite soften.