Out
The original position. The pursed lips of parents and older sisters, their backs to the wall like rulers. The long hallways and schoolyards. Trip.
I cry for no reason while the music plays, lying in the fetal permission of darkness. Stomach growling.
Then
The scourge the whip the dark back taking it, bearing
the knowledge of the next. I dogwalk at night in undecided paths, clutching two leashes. One clutches me back, empty.
Between
I am before knowing — light feet climbing to the backyard fort at 4am. Clasp. Small, whispered confessions of being.
They are before and after me — the hungry waters, the calm family embarking earlier than morning, the knowing child. He turns on the lights with glee. Suspended.
In
Beginning the fall. Push. Simple endless journals and simple endless choruses. Slowly
injecting back into myself. My hand opens, finding narrow doors. Unvacuum.
The moon tells her name. The flowers face their pinkness. TVs turn off, the book returns. The just coming back.
A whole day no food but the sky. A whole sky no food but the day. A whole sky. Something cracks. I am full.