I’m a map

I can’t find myself
on myself
I have all these other names
on me



and all these creases,
and I am getting older
I know because
I feel it in my creases

Every time I’m folded up again
And lain down in my drawer
I get scared
in the dark
I’ll fall apart

The noble globe knows not
to crumble
It only goes around

But I
I am lowly

All of these people
who know
where they are going

the Dead Sea—

But where

I am a map

But where does that
leave me?