I am not leaving
I am not coming back
My tribe is the children of drunks
Awake in their beds at 3 a.m.
Lost in a city of fists
Carbon arc blocking the stars
Convinced me at last
To read her lines slowly
Climbed through a window again
Into the arms of night
At the top of the field among ashes
No one comes back
I am not leaving
And I am not coming back.
—with lines by Sharon Olds
