1. i indulge in long bubble baths    & hiking up my landlord’s bills/ in the bath i make another playlist/ for insomnia/      songs that sound like being underwater                   the soap lavender scented & infused with melatonin      does not help me sleep     neither does the music       it fills space   fill the tub    again                           underwater                             i pretend i don’t have a body     anywhere else   think about it too much                          in  bed, my skin   is the space & what fills it     i   submerge      indulge                a glutton for relief                                                         touch my chest with soapy hands plant the seeds of rest in my wrists       run the tap hot                              scalding sometimes leave the window open too                                  for my skin      a layer of vaseline        a humidifier fit for a basement apartment            most days i welcome the sun through my one small window          others i indulge  in  absence 

we do what we can to survive/   

the winter.

2. manic pixie dream dyke  sits in bed all day                                                            reads mary oliver   lets the soft animal of her body love what it loves     (except not really)    i love sitting in bed but i don’t let myself     i watch the cat sleep      nuzzle into her warmth letting rain come through my window     say oh fuck    every time i remember eventually i have to wash the dishes      i dreamt about owning a couch last night       i dreamt of any time before this                      i dreamt of after.

3. one night on the phone with    [         ]  i remember what makes us family     every day after  i think of it when i make my coffee             it froths and breathes under my nose        i am flushed with memory                  somewhat selfishly                       i want more & more of it.  

4. i start taking my coffee with honey               take a liking to lo-fi music    in the evening   write myself dry      all day too  i am running   out of ways to say     i couldn’t sleep last night    in my nightmares i find drawers full of my baby teeth         labeled  post mortem miscellaneous  i find  the sharpest one     hold it up to       fluorescent light             empty chalice                                  ask St. Anthony                                          if he knows about        everything                                      i’ve lost.

5. my gender is found naked         in the sunshine             i’ve grown   out of wearing clothes  most days   i  wash my hair     fold my grief  while it’s warm     in winter when it’s warm i remember that mourning won’t scare away the snow      in late november       consider taking up embroidery or knitting or painting things that are easy to paint                once again, i am wishing to be easier to succumb to the rhythm of winter                    the decisions it makes f0r us                                slip                            

in tempo with forgetting

i want more & more of it.