Shape of a shape,
foldable up
and able, in,
to open out,
stay put, collect,
beyond my notice,
riches I have no
further use of.
Latex or plastic
echo of cervix,
funnel without
an exit; held up,
a wine glass without
a stem but with
the wine-dark end
of an egg within.
Each month, washed,
scalded clean, ready
to capture the swell
and wane of me. Ten
years, one lasted,
of stable yet suspect
silicone, till
I overboiled it—
its modest, purposeful
self safe
on the shelf and in
again, ad in-
finitum, I’d thought,
reminded only
then that infinities,
too, end.
Instructions for Escape
For everyone it will be different. Bend
time to your will, bend your will
to the bitter need. Bite down
hard, tear through. So
I’ve heard, another
way is to cede:
open your face
upward,
allow
rain,
bright
light, too
bright to see
through but see
through it, let it
edge you into an expanse
you hadn’t known and knew,
even if rusty, even if ill at ease
with ease, realizing, realized, there for
the living. It’s yours. You’re its. Breathe.
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