sometimes i sink
to the bathroom floor,
curling tightly like
an embryo
craving comfort as
disgust clumps in my belly
feeling my fat pulsate:
weighed down in privilege.
i relive the womb
hearing my ancestors
whispering. whispering
across the void
of linoleum floors.
i trace tile cracks
eyes heavy
hands that plowed
now scarred.
crawling from corners
onto my face
skittering.
i mistook silverfish
for slivers of rice.
mirrors like to glare, at my
layers and folds
bound by blood
centuries of fragmented faces
staring—
cold knuckles
clenched
clasping mildewed shower curtains
starving:
a plagued nation on my soap scum wrists.
i wrap my legs around the neck of the sink.
rising. and grab it choking
listen to
the faucet gurgling
a hungering silence.
i must unburden my mother(s)
our bones braided
with an aching
resistance.
heaving flesh
i groan
push
pull
pulled fat
and cradle my stomach
now standing
i hold the rail
by the sink
again;
remembering what it means
to
Survive.
