untitled poem

Marvel at how we can

stretch ourselves to fit another’s shape

a once-thick membrane, pulled taut, transparent

taking on a partial silhouette of them.

Partially unformed, we seek the container 

for our experiences. Pouring ourselves into

the vessels: four-legged, pyramid, dodecahedron, and then

discharge again. The iridescence of residue remains.

Try on all of the coats that 

are palatable to our senses. 

Furry, sleek, waterproof, woolen. Sometimes 

the arms are too long but we find that there’s a certain

charm to having the sleeves rolled up.

In the process, the form that is us

begins to take shape. Some openings we 

cannot fit through anymore.

Some cannot contain us completely

and we spill over, splitting the seams

tearing the membrane.