Pretzel stomach
and long forgotten middle moments
Embracing the folds of air
between where I am
and where you want to be
The constant lack of consistency
Bright, unguarded purities
an envelope, a bill, a pillow
The stiffness of breath after a climb
into the cranberry reaches of my porcelain home
I descend underearth to regrow
and mold, or flourish
The twisted cliff of something else
