a monday evening 7:29pm
i'm kind of glad my brother ate my sandwich.
because instead of chewing mouthfuls of cheese and bread i lay flat on a yoga mat.
the thrumming of cold air is loud, bellowing at its highest setting.
still, my robe feels warm.
and it splits down the middle, just for my abdomen to feel cool.
if i were to reach just far enough.
to where my toes point and poke enough to cramp.
and my fingers push against the mess of clothing on the floor.
i'd stretch hard enough to flatten.
to look down and not see a bump.
i'm stuck in a stomach.
just without a sandwich.
» allison
