NESTING
i make it
so that that every place i live is my home so
i put my bed on the wall closest to the window, always
furthest from the door, always
i keep my window open, always
except the one in this new place has been painted shut
and there is nothing sharp enough to chip away
at the thing that lacquers me vacuum-packed
heaviest in the morning man
of stone man of slip
man unable to lift
the limbs that spent the night settling
speak
remember my body when it leaves
a man on the street is trying to sell me something anything he can think of a rock pure gold a postage stamp a feather he says twenty shekel twenty shekel just twenty shekel and i wake up with red dots on my arms and legs. loose bed sheets. i think of jericho and i think of it again and i think of it again: a video on loop and i can’t get back to sleep.
those spiky little balls in mountain grass
splintered into your finger tips
now your wingspan ends sharp
sometimes i want to wake up early and be the bird that wins
sometimes i want to be the worm that says just five more minutes

