an unrehearsed universe

Over There

it hurts to sit tall, arms and chest thrown back, head held high.
the power position.
a body secure in its place, speaking confidently,
predatory, almost, in its dominion of space.

i shuffle past the lands of sweets and meats, rapacious yet afraid,
bowed into the shape of a bottomless well of anxiety,
hungering for something just thataway,

a bit further over there,

something maybe even within reach,
but for the hunch.

the satiation of satisfaction, perhaps, the sense of being enough
rather than too much
of too little,
found through quiet insides and thinning outsides.

instead my limbs are comprised of faulty levers, gears worn down to this far
and no further.

i am comfortable only in crouching,
huddled upon myself to protect the vulnerable fleshy bits
from the eager gaze of those upright sitters or the sympathy of fellow huddlers.

is it possible to dream
even when bent thusly?