Body heavy with the hopes and hauntings of the world around me,
hips move slow.

I rise, stretch out this long limber spine,
and walk into the kitchen

dripping with
loves
fears
insecurities
that are not mine.
My body is porous
as a sponge from the sea,
eyes are chalices filled with
hope,
wonder,
freedom;
a darkness
that is mine.
Overflowing.
My head is anointed,
generous shining palms reaching
straight through the sky.
I have held onto nothing;
and I've never gone hungry.
I do not own
the butterflies in my cage of ribs,
the music in my tired feet,
the bells that fall from my mouth when I laugh.
This body is a vessel
always filled with
the water around me,
the ground beneath me,
pressed into by the sky above.

I open my cabinets,
empty.

Bank account
empty.

Body full eyes overflowing feet moving lips parted taking in with palms stretched upwards this city these streets these faces these longings these strangers fill me with familiar questions

I close the cabinets and settle into Saturday.

Another day
I do not own.
Body heavy
heart with wings
all things borrowed
all things borrowed.