This Year

I never lost anything. I shed my clothes now when the heat’s too high / my hair bigger than before / I move in vertical loops / through to the ceiling / I speak through the veil / speak through the red flushing my cheeks / I laugh with a full face / I forgot I was a daughter / of the North Star / it cuts through the tar-black river / I can play the drums if I say I can / the same song a dozen times hits sharp / and my head is a pendulum to bring me home / when I forget

I walked through so many doors as a child / an attempt to contend with the bitter air / I stung my tongue with cold / breathed myself into a delusion that looked like clarity / a clarity mimicking the delusion that I now know sitting on the bathroom counter slick with condensation / discarded shirts and underpants on the tile / that I’ll be stepping over for days.

I run the shower early to watch time move without me and I’m shrouded in it.