saturday morning, january 17, 2026 at 9:37am

the highlight of the floor-to-ceiling window leaks through

my hands feel the walls and know what’s out there

running my fingers over the slits of light

the vinyl shutters block 99% of light but the cracks let in 100%

i’m brushing my teeth slowly, repetitively

feeling the poke of every single bristle

the gentle pressure on my teeth might make them cave backwards into my skull

he comes to hug, and hold me, so i don’t faint

and only then do i realize

i’ve eroded a trail across my canines

i sink so low into bed, i become the bed

so i write a poem