My body is a terrible place to live.
It’s always storming inside my head
nothing can grow
everything always uproots in the flood waters.
The things in my lungs
always choke
and never have words
thanks to secondhand smoke
and doubt
there is always earthquakes
there is always an unsteady tremble
in my feet
in my knees
in my fingers
and in my voice,
always.
And I am tearing apart
like tectonic plates
constantly
pushing
and
separating
things lift
and fall apart
and my bones stretch
and become brittle
and my blood is always too thin
and I don’t have enough iron in my blood
and I always yawn
I always need extra breaths
and my skin will keep expanding
and my skin will keep me under raps
and my skin will cover me up
and my skin will keep me looking fine
my skin will pull the atmosphere
from inside
out
and you can trace my past
on the surface of my hands
and below my eyes
and make your guesses about me
because there is no language
or words
for my whole life
and the loss I’ve felt.
