kethrai's Diaryland Diary

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Outsider, A Poem About The Body

outsider, the body

I used to live in that,
I think
the legs used to fit
like silky dance stockings
the hands like
tailored kidskin gloves
but each day that
I trip over
some small thing
and hurt for hours--
each day that
the buzziness comes back
I don't like living there anymore
it's the apartment with
the obnoxious chatty roommate
who never ever leaves
it's always cluttered
and never clean
the phone jack is loose
and reception is spotty.
The gas stove
is out of date.

Now, most of the time
I vacate to friends' cribs
neat linear printed words
glowing screens
wistfully though
sometimes I peer in
my own ruined windows
and glimpse the home
I used to be.

4:31 p.m. - 2009-04-02

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