unit seven

a home in which hair ties are hazards

here i learn the scrutiny of

fluorescent lights

on every scab

every square inch of skin that

ordinarily stays a secret

only known to myself and my razorblade

now

i’m watching old movies with new strangers

and spotting tree frogs on the windows

ten minute phone calls

and two tshirts for the week

i don’t remember what time it is,

not even what day

quite frankly

i don’t know where i am exactly

or why i am wherever i am

or who is holding this blue marker

and hoping Mrs. Maribel won’t take it

before i finish this poem

but i’ll be okay

i’m just gonna go sit a while

with other sick people

and let myself laugh

for a time