a body that will not behave

seven. mindthegap

i am. .ma i

she folds me up like fresh laundry, ,yrdnual hserf ym pu sdlof ehs corner to corner, ,renroc ot renroc
until there is no boundary era sehtolc ym fo lla litnu
between inside or out. .esactius eht fo edisni
she keeps going, until i am eveels eht gnidloh ,spots ehs
a little pocket of nothingness, neht .tekcaj etiruovaf ym fo
a shred of dna left behind ,edisni :enil naelc a .sesolc piz eht
after a lingering touch. .neewteb ni gnihton ,edistuo


she takes me to the hedge, ,noitats eht ot em sevird ehs
and she holds me tight. i cannot esimorp i .thgit em sguh ehs dna
promise anything, yet. the back door ot esimorp i .thgin yreve llac ot
is unlocked and she steps inside. meht gnirb dna sgniht tnaillirb etirw
she unfolds me, but only as far as a .efil ot
baby, and lays me in the cot. she dna niart eht draob i
leaves, and a tiny woman takes ni namow ynit a semoceb
her place. .ecnatsid eht

7. (a thing folded small enough is never lost, only put away.)

i am.

she folds up my fresh laundry,
corner to corner,
until all of my clothes are
inside of the suitcase.
she stops, holding the sleeve
of my favourite jacket. then
the zip closes. a clean line: inside,
outside, nothing in between.

she drives me to the station,
and she hugs me tight. i promise
to call every night. i promise to
write brilliant things and bring them
to life.
i board the train and she
becomes a tiny woman in
the distance.