everything i know somehow
feels like warm metal
the opposite of nesting
the texture of stuttering, still trying to shut the window
before i have a chance to
squint
the way you do, the cold air coming in
or in public,
i only remember what not to wear
not to be spherical, not round like
things i’d secretly give away
ornaments without names
it doesn’t bother me when they disappear
or when ice cream goes away
but i sometimes reach back too far,
try to instead of undoing
try to wait
so as to take the things that could
get me something
but
i get upset
about money, dirty water, & cover designs
people whose alarm clocks
add letters
to the places i already stand near
a pushing, a push, or nothing
down
like the lack of time given
to the people
with the dirtiest hands
so much time disgusts me
how you offer things
like: words, sentences, whole letters
you’ll send them out for me, whatever
i need more room
for being late,
the audience
already moving toward goodbye,
my knees shaking hours
before i’m even thought about,
the house flinching, always nervous
always waiting, how it can be so full
of chlorine,
it is so much of
why I sleep
