You sit in your covey all
Conforming to its boxy confines
Every corner filled to its limit
With fleshy retreats
The box constraining your minute
The corners defining your
Face your shoulders
Your thighs pressed to your cheeks in grimace the cardboard
Outlining your
Territory you've yet to explore
The whole thing.
And wonder about the things
Yet you may find when
You explode
From the constraints
What size may you become
What shape other than
Square. What space
You will find
When someday you come to find
The box was all in your mind
And the limits all fake
And self-imposed.