in which I am no longer the centre of the universe
no longer a cell rejecting, accepting, excepting, neglecting
both inner and outer cleaning
sorting, critiquing, selecting
but a character in someone else’s story
a friend peripheral the way my friends are peripheral to me
even my closest loves seeing me
only from the corners of their eyes
smash
my rage not a roar but a hiss
a slow leak that’s left me
at the bottom of the pool
willing to do without
rather than capitulate
talk about hiding unhidden
riding (not ridden)
my own
horse
home
