Maybe

by Laura Bott

If these tendencies weren’t so strong,

I would tell you why

I find the leaves pretty

when they turn orange and yellow and brown.

I would mention what that smile on my lips meant.

I might even show the way things are.

But something has a tight grip on my throat,

Tugging tighter and straining.

Perhaps someday I will accidentally

tell you the combination,

But then again, maybe not.