The Bits

The crawling rings around the bathroom drain

An orange that shows me the power of dimming the lights 

my bending back is more interested in 

texture. Back 

bends to undo the creases

Left by long nights and I try to scrub off residual glue 

of tape on my eye lids

Propping up my little mechanical body

Fated to be an open 

soda can on a 

slanted shelf

Pop

My body is paper 

wrinkled it’s never the same 

I wonder if my memory will fight to hold this in its arms

even though it already struggles with what it has 

Or if it will tumble down from the top to where all lost things go

history that didn’t make the records

Moments too great for anyone to spare a moment to sit down and record 

Shiny spots instead of eyes 

Because they’ve made eternity 

And I bet no one ever felt more connected than the people in those rooms

I drape my body to the tub floor MacBook folding at the waist

Have you know about freedom fear?

Peal back the layer of freedom talk, choice and all that  

The true essence of history doesn’t live in books but in the history itself 

Our books say their names but they are ours They revere the freedom 

To disappear and untethered from the tyranny of choice

disperse into whatever it is that we can’t understand they’re not afraid 

painted gold and blinking pink lights 

I lower  bend at the knees too

and I place my hands to the bathtub floor

S-hooking the floor by the flow

That the drops from the shower facet  

Kiss “I’m home” routinely I

 hear it in the pitter rhythm 

Comfort esteeming routine 

steaming “I’ve missed you”s 

blurring the mirror so we get the chance to miss them too

Do you ever get struck by the feeling

that the thing you’re looking at is actually looking at you? 

I’m looking at the tiles from my knees 

and we summit 

the orange stains in the crevices 

And bring them up too 

My face dripping with the same kisses

And I’m lucky enough

Hunched into prayer on the shower floor

thinking Everything before this consummates here 

Either it all had no meaning

or the meaning is here

everything consummates

all that’s left

The bits