I was born on a border, a fence between
The two places I might have belonged.
I am the stranger in the doorway,
The lightless flowers blooming in fissures,
Two sides of a rusted pingin -

My bones are not heavy enough
To anchor me to any place - I float above,
Watching scentless flowers bloom
And records turn in silence,
My limbs hanging limp as the others
Dance below.