Journal of a Nobody

I’ve never been far enough from home
to escape all the things that I can no longer take care of. The
farthest place I’ve been from you is right by your side, across
an entire circumference of a planet, pressing my palms
against your palms, all the oceans
right between us.

The heart, a prison inmate, and a bluejay
all walked into cell bars.

There is no punchline. This is just another metaphor
for having twenty-four ribs around the part of me that I want to
set free the most.

I dreamt once of sending myself in a bottle off to sea,
corking the screw over my head and letting the water pull me
closer to somewhere where my language is a foreign
currency.

When I woke up, there was rain spitting against my windowsill
and the roof was caving in so close that it brushed up
against my knees.