fluid

I wake up—
broad-shouldered and cynical
chiseled from stone with a butter knife and a bad eye
lanky and blocky and stiff
elbows sticking out at strange angles
arms dangling from a hunchback
I wake up sweltering
sunlight clawing open my blinds
and into my pores
stubble jutting out from under nowhere
overslept and invisible

I go to bed—
slender and solemn
seeping into sheets
flowing and molded into mismatched shapes
I round off the edges and turn inward
quantify my worth
count up my corners
a fire in my gut but I can’t breathe it out
so I hold my breath all night
just waiting