in which every poem i write, becomes a poem about my body.
everyday when i wake up, i find my body sleeping next to me.
i can never get out of bed without waking it too.
its a shame because my body always seems to be dreaming.
sometimes, as i get dressed, i ask what it dreams about.
...but my body never replies.
only rolls out of bed and heads straight for the shower. taking every last drop of hot water.
you see
my body is selfish.
it knows only how to take it never gives.
it comes into the kitchen every morning and drinks MY water.
it tracks mud on the carpet.
it never knocks. only walks in unwelcome.
my body, it takes up more space than it deserves.
and knows it.
where ever i go, it likes to keep me in its shadow.
im not sure anyone has ever seen ME in plain sight.
lately my body has started telling me bed time stories that give me nightmares about loneliness.
i think, maybe my body is getting desperate.
like it just wants me to love its everything.
when i write my body comes up next to me, and it takes off all of its clothes.
naked.
it never learned how to dance. only how to hide.
so it finds a hiding spot in my mouth, unhinges my jaw with both hands and steps inside.
it tracks mud on my tongue, i swallow and my body goes down the wrong way.
gets lodged in my wind pipe.
doesn't let me breath without reminding me of its presence.
so of course every poem i write stinks of my bodies breath.
of course my words sound like what attempts to out run what has already caught me.
afterwards my body crawls out of my throat.
dripping.
as it gets dressed it asks me if i feel any better.
i think, maybe if i say yes it will leave me at last.
but my body has always stayed.
so call it loyal.
if nothing else.
