The corridor slants not from fatigue But by some deeper persuasion It guides me sideways into barriers That recall the forests they displaced The rug resists a proper edge Its corners lift with intention Relaying truths about gravity I was never meant to grasp Some surfaces conspire Not to hinder but to suggest To teach the body new dimensions Of caution and acquiescence I’ve learned to walk without destination To let the ground shape tempo There’s guidance in its wavering A draft of truth within the slow