the body idea Bree North I know i am not my bodyBut if i were
I would remember just long enoughFor memory to mean imprints
I would be curious as corneasWhiten with fear like folliclesWired up from the inside
Disease could be free to teach meLike feldspar fragments or meteorologyAccording to some holy mathAnd I wouldn’t even wonder about itI would be water and dirtThat’s it.
Every hand would be the sameThe same like elastic on my joggersPlastic comb fingers
God, how i would harden up when starvedAnd soften when i am fed

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