somewhere on a peeling windowsill,
I am starting over.
I am crawling under paint chips
to reemerge with six legs
strong enough to lift things heavier than me.

somewhere in a library basement,
I am learning how to speak.
how to hold my tongue to the roof of my mouth
when I’m quiet.
how to keep my teeth straight
for aesthetics
and for vegetables.

somewhere in a moving airplane,
I am breathing in, breathing out.
I am breathing in, breathing out.
I am wiggling my toes to feel that this is temporary
the ground will be there in the evening
when I land.

somewhere in a coffee shop,
I am behind the counter,
asking beautiful people
what’ll it be
and I am at the counter,
holding warm soy milk on my tongue
and I am outside,
squinting in the sun,
strong enough to lift things heavier than me.