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.