Published in print with Saltfront: studies in human habit(at), 2021
They dared to force me,
all sinew and mother-scent,
into a plastic castle small enough
to force the air from a pigeon-lung.
When I was a god, I had castles
of marigold-perfume and gilded walls
with a gleam-and-glint brave enough to blind
the richest mortal man alive.
Now I stood all womb-leaked and blinky-eyed
in a space without motion.
I could eat and eat and eat and sigh
and stand in stinking stank and slopping-plop.
When I was a god, I had the sky for a tent,
all azure and sun-shameless for my days,
all moon-ever-vigilant for my nights.
And now, look at me.
And now, look what has been made of me.
No castle vast enough to house this hate,
no splendor, no sun, more beautiful than this release.
Out of the plastic, out of the stench,
and out of the flesh.