conquering myself,
i am annexed,
and ripe for colonizing
with arms like ramparts,
and a chest of treasure,
faintly, my time is kept
there, its slovenly prize,
well-guarded by nobody,
remains untouched
each limb, some path,
each follicle, a foothold,
all of me, someone else’s
so callously covered,
i am as much myself,
as i am nothing at all
and, reaching,
i feel my ticking cavity,
replace with emptiness
there, the fluorescent hum,
a droning, crooning buzz,
waves in the air like a flag
and across its fabric,
the wind rips and sings:
i am, i am, i am