The town to which I won’t return is you.
You left and took the map I knew you by,
took the long contour of shore, took every vein’s blue.
The town to which I won’t return is you.
Snow lands on the river’s mouth like it used to,
while somewhere else the skin turns at your thigh.
The town to which I won’t return is you.
You left and took the map I knew you by.