DAY THREE: Six Self Portraits / by Rebecca Ann Jordan

move me

i’m asking now what
isn’t there
what is
pushing in the direction of
direction in
folding out the careful
tear the gingerly left
leaf the outside in
the crackle a burning
the spackling a building up
where isn’t it
tall the inside out
the window is it
i’m asking now what
is heavy, where isn’t
frail how is