The Direction I Walk in the Morning

My left leg is longer
Than my right
To move forward

The sun burns a fate
On the bend
Of a stick.

Fatigued I am more
Than a twitch
Or an imbalanced end.

I am turned foreign
With hands to give aid
To the skeptic.

The numbers I’ve written
On my arm
look like tattoos.

Someone describes
An idea they found
In the past.

I am certain my doubts
Define my religion
Too near.

This melody plays
In a loop
Crashing cymbals.