run

these words 
are an exorcism.


i distill myself 
in poetry,


until you have: 
me,
complete and
enigmatic enough


that i
no longer need
to be here.


and when
that is done,
like sylvia,
like emily,
i will 


run


to the quick
and eager dark.


heed the call
of some need
to discover


if i can still
be,


without all
the masks and
the voices.