approximiations

1.

i begin, i’ve already begun, i will when i’m finished because
i can only tell where things have changed by looking
back. i stab at the air, interested.

i am wholly unprepared. how can i know when
it starts when i’m always starting and ending,
starting and ending, my tenuous grasp changing

like me. starting and ending, starting and ending
how can i know where to begin
it is tiring, but what a gift.

2.

i don’t know what i look like. i never have.
maybe i look like an iced donut or
a knot of scar tissue that doesn’t know

desire. twisted, reminding me every day of
my own stupidity. i wake up and i pick
at a confectioned scab,

move forward, and do it again. or maybe
my shape is sharp with harsh edges
and corners. my mother’s goal.

3.

i would tell everyone who i love that i
love them, i would say sorry to my mother on
behalf of the world, i would tell

everyone how scary life has been lately and
ask them to tell me i will be okay, i would say my
doubts, maybe i wouldn’t say anything

since i can only leave a broken thing where
it lies, i would ask what it’s like to shed my physical
form, i would ask what it’s like to rest