mimic,
pretend
you’re sadistic
and sloppy,
a body of riots silenced,
the shadows you cast
object the way your body moves,
they send mathematics
to cut you in half
you’re a negative fraction,
a curve
and a flat line
congruent
or solid,
I’m not good with numbers,
or equations
I’m better at signaling ships,
idling at the chaos of stillness—
I’m nothing in the big scheme, but
I am everything in this skin.
