bodily (ab)normalities

By | 15 May 2023

my body is plumbed,
a vertical wasteland,
comparable to
a compressed chest,
some grey weight

cloudy and sleepless,
against the gut
which breathes
of its own accord.
a picture of health

three tablets a day,
my mother’s grip around
my midriff,
sweaty sheets
imposing, like rubber

praying don’t move,
sweet body, stay still.

blue light
when the night falls
like swallowing whole

the first cigarette
my father smoked,
the one that set off the addiction.
such healthy bodies,
a pair of lungs so tight

and a pack of prescription pills.
with spots mottling the skin
gathering dust,
I am segmented

such healthy bodies
composed of half-forged things

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