I view descend-in-reverse, aligning
my neck and sight to the building’s height.
I dream better when there are still
gaps to fill in: the trajectory of my flight
before sprawling onto the tarmac.
Dissecting the adage of being broken,
I am actually whole, bones still
fused and a heart beating articulate
against the mind’s silence.
So it is the mind which breaks
from pain, binding to receptors,
tightening their pathways
that escape as topography of my palms
I memorize for ownership, so
the
decision after this is mine alone.
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