You say you feel like a needle, dropped.
You don’t say that, exactly, but you feel that, exactly.
Swollen is not what we ever mean.
Moon, like, Moon the first time we ever made it there & joy was said but fear wasn’t.
The body can’t attack itself.
I don’t say that, exactly, but I believe that, exactly?
I don’t believe that, exactly, but the wind wants to make a sound when it moves through you.
I can’t hear it.
The body does what it does without asking.
I’m covered in hands, Mountain, & now only some of them are yours.