Out of the mess that those who have tried to help
have made of me, I reclaim, I retain only
my bare skeleton, my broken heart, my battered brain.
And I have nothing in particular to do
so I unlatch my feet from my ankles
and set them next to my dirty sneakers in the hallway.
I peel back my ribs, one by one,
And lay them neatly in rows on the floor.
My legs, I lean in the corner like wooden canes.
My heart, old warrior, remains where it is,
in my hollow chest. I recline on a bamboo chair
and pull a blanket up to my chin, as I ponder my next move.
I unhinge my arms from my shoulders
and lay them across my chest. My lungs
expand and contract like two brave, windblown sails.