When the grid failed during The Storm, I re-arranged bowls
across the floor my archipelago of last chances, drip-drops
from the spigot marking time, each ping an echo of my stut-
stuttering heartbeat.
what Kept a river rock in my pocket,
did worn smooth from worry,
I Pressed it against my gums
do until they flooded copper,
to element recognizing element,
survive? blood acknowledging
stone’s ancient patience.
Learned to walk in the smallest
body possible, shoulders curled
forward, eyes down, universal
please-don’t-notice-me posture,
the protective hunch of a prey
animal, knowing how quickly
protection becomes predation
in certain places.
Made a temporary home of
my studio apartment
for visiting businessmen;
they slept in my bed,
I slept in my truck outside.
Made a temporary home of
my body for married men;
a temple, yes,
but under renovation,
in need of capital funds.
Whatever it took.
Whatever I could bear.
And many things I couldn’t.
The body wasn’t supposed to make it. And yet, here it is.
