I took a shower for five days
trying to rinse off your name
just heard the water punching. Lakes
seemed bigger after that, my body
an antique figurine floating from the shore.
I stopped speaking. No one eats
my language now. I lived in a cave once
called your mouth. You sounded so loud
in there while I amounted to my leaving.
Some wrap their hands into fists
and call it the sweet science.
I practice the art of getting hit.