when i bob my head above the waterline,
my lungs expand to maximum capacity, and fill,
for history tells me of the uncertainty in the timing
of my next upward tumble into oxygen.

and insight feels the same way.
when my ego, superego, and id all align,
the rush of wholeness overcomes,
and i search for pens and paper
for history tells me I will soon forget
being myself ever made so much sense.

lately, in therapy,
i have been working on building a floaty
and hopefully, later, a boat
so the thrashing won't be so intense
so even if i dip under, the sun will stay in my eyeline
so i will be able to lead myself home
so i wont forget that home truly exists.

curving inward
away from the packed suitcases
moving into the rose
quiet in the bundle of the peg lights
a doll whispers about being on display
about the death of feminism
the intersections of being inatimate
stripped of covering
surrounded by cloth
the swings pout in the windows
the chill keeps farmers hands out of dirt
the frost creates in ways we cannot
and the touch of the walls is velvet
is acrylic paint, is object jutting
the onions in the pan are browning
the oil hops up and halts on stomach
everything is panneled
conglomerate, patched, zero waste
a compost larger than a parking space
imagining our solutions for landfills
imagining the reflections of who we have been
planning to leave a gift of words
to send paper across country
even egg cartons will fall
all of this will falter
all of this will crash, disburse, forget, remember
a fabric child is older than we
she is staring
unable to blink, to escape, to step back,
how lucky, to be mobile
though just having wheels or legs is not enough
how much crying will we do before we realize
we are not bound
how much longer will i pretend that i can last
when i picture you
your eyes are averted
the hiding, the distance
i want to be able to say i will wait
i wish that i could promise it to you
but i am angry
angry that you cant snap forward for us
step into what we were once building
i see that you are trying, love
i do.
i need to know if i am trying.
if i am willing, or forcing, or flowing.
all of this is nonsense in this moment.
i am not going anywhere.
but i may,
i have to let you know that i may.
it only seems fair, though it is heartbreak in letters and being stuck to stare at the weapon.
i will freeze and sit on a shelve, never age, but wear away and display the past for you. memories only molecular. memories only dust.

I am dying.
I am dying.
I am dying.
I am hoping I am making space
for something new.

there are times when i am tall
small, leaning, hidden, buried
the perception altered by emotion
the feeling of inhabiting this body
always morphing, fleeing, returning
i want to be tall and full of eye contact
i want to fill fully into this form

when my momma took her fingers
to a keyboard and slapped down #MeToo
my boyfriend saw her post and said something like
"thats a little public, yeah?"
and i said
"yeah."
because the conversation had not been normalized
and she was the first on our timeline to do it
and i am ashamed to say i felt embarrassed.
of my momma. telling her truth.
i participated in the active silence and shame.
the quiet that is full of wishing you could go.
i didnt post #MeToo,
even though i have been *****, groped, cat-called.
which parts of me are suffocating in the tightness of my lips?
where do you go to learn to speak?

trying to keep a plant alive on a black tar roof
trying to get through a window when you are a robust firefighter
trying to park a fifteen person van in reverse
trying to climb a tree with dead branches
trying to cover a tattoo with drug store makeup
trying to explain evaporation to a three year old
trying to walk in sneakers with a broken pinky toe
trying to pretend that death doesn't sit in your mind as a blinking exit sign

finally
hope isnt the only concern
and shrinking isnt the only direction
and qualifications are burning in trashcans
on sidewalks, my rings are shining,
my bells are ringing, my finger nails are
sharp.
my eyes linger on trees, my ears fiddle with
forgeting that they ever forgot
my hushed, lulled, chest power, passion put-forth
sees leaves and no bodies and no bones
my belly is a chestnut, my knuckles
are a *****, my knee caps are a cushion
and i am buckling but only to secure,
never burden, and i am a compromise
i am a mushroom, i am a fungus, i am moss
i am electron, positive, negative, charged,
changed, channeled, a room of lights, egg wash,
hardening and cracking, i am a reaction, grout, a mild wind,
a mild salsa, cayenne, dopamine, allergies,
a cat with a cold, the number nine, more&more&more&more
eager.