Prompt: Today’s form is Spenserian stanza.
It is eight lines in iambic pentameter and one in Alexandrine, with a rhyme scheme of ABABBCBCC. Technically (obviously from the name), it is just one stanza, but I’m going to treat it like a complete poem.
I flee across imagined fields to get
my head up and away. To breathe. To look.
To think without a guard. Perhaps to let
my feet go where they may – unchained, unhooked.
Now running, I think back on what they took,
those trinkets I regrettably released.
In this endeavor I must be the crook.
I am the one who let me be erased.
I hope that now the lines of me may be retraced.