This is the room where
I feed myself
and this is the room where my self feeds.
My fingers run rough up and down
they trip on the part that feels watched
like a divot at the top of a soda can.
– brown packets stacked heavy on the bedside
– red string that ties them
– small knife folded into itself
– bucket’s wide mouth (x3)
1. beneath the prickle of torso, there is a dotted line. Pull the knife across it and let water spill into the bucket. This is just routine maintenance, and if things float on the top, they may be regarded and then thrown out. If anything drips down the buckets sides, licking will do.
2. Mix the first packet and act surprised when it is bread. Eat it like it doesn’t stick to your teeth. When you feel it rise in your stomach, unborn and unfinished, you are ready.
3. You will recognize the third, but you will not speak of it . The thick paste will smell like chalk and it will run smooth over your skin. Seal every opening but the eyes.
This is the room
where I sit
and this is the room that sits.
licks the back of my neck
where I cannot reach.
at my lips until they are dissolved free.
I breath until midnight and clean. And morning comes in the room
and the room comes in the morning. And I feed
and I feed
and I feed.