Bid My Skin Be Happier

Lidless where sleep should be, shifting
among animals all night. I can’t hold off
the hands of the world. I asked for a latch
for my bathroom door. I buy my own
Christmas presents and lack mechanical knowledge.

In the life next to this one I’m light-boned and terrified.
Skeleton fused, braced for flight. Or, I run low to ground,
muscular, systemic. Shoulder only hunger, some blood.

Across the shiver-thin border an animal speaking a differentiated tongue
(accented, syllabic) says, ease your kingly shoulder off the wheel.
Shrug off that sparse garment. Unsleeve havoc.

Kristen Holt-Browning is a freelance copy editor and proofreader. Her poetry chapbook, The Only Animal Awake in the House, is available from Moonstone Press. She lives in Beacon, New York.