The Turnaround

There are bug-like blood stains
on everything. Someone's been here before
making some regrets. Mistakes were clear.
I catch a warm wind and inhale the sand
of another's bones and I catch myself.
No one should've known, I can hope.
My periphery sees things I don't as I
spin my head to acknowledge; a sun
that's not a neighbor and an
ally unable of trust. You're unspeakable
but I can hear you. Your trail was
ending at my feet. A breath and a
curse. A cloudless rain. Unseen
at the destination, I don't have the
option of a smarter retreat. I must
face this. I have to draw a margin
and stay within as the details begin
to emerge. There's a responsibility and I
should understand its outline but the
murkiness is blinding. It's all I have
left. And I know you were around.
Even the most desolate places bear
the autumn of your presence. Do
better, it says. Give yourself a
chance to take another breath. Do
better, it says. Give yourself a
chance to see whatever's left and
make an existence outside this
silhouette. Do better, it says.

         29 lines, "The Turnaround"  from "Also Mutants" .

Best Medium-Length Poem, Free Verse