Welcome to the equinox of extended mornings, spreading
out their bubble gum tongues to taste our dehydrated faces.
If our dome can fit a world in one plastic dispenser, velveteen
muscle reaching out to sense the air like a curious mollusk,
then I’ve fit a whole hemisphere in the tip of a ballpoint pen.
In one radiant heat wave, I’ve pooled my mouth into a black
oasis of mud. I’ve lost half of myself and sense of ownership,
breathing through a new sea. Suddenly, I’m alright with this.