I was mailed in a suitcase,
I was thrown into the dark to reckon with my thoughts.
why do I sleep?
at the funeral they told me to wake up.
they shook my shoulders.
I climbed out and replaced myself with sticks.
I threw in a match
and closed the lid.
the imprint my body had left
expanded until it was the whole world,
the universe, a plan, a fragment
of the map I spit into your palm.
all of it burning.