self-possession

dribbles of mist run up my arms
i haven't seen the summer for a day
it cools in my collarbone
tricking my trachea

there's a voice in my veins
it laughs at my ligaments
attaches to my ankle
and sweeps me off my feet

floating as i fall

the vessel i inhabit doesn't fit me very well
too loose or too tight, it scrapes and chafes
a swollen lip is caught aflame
i can taste the season, here in my mouth

but this body is alien
or am i an immigrant?
sometimes it feels like i'm haunting myself
a ghost in my own machine