Body/House/Again

Like possessions the air
inflates to fill the lungs
you have. Under skin
your bones (good or not)
and chambers awash
with flooded lifeblood,
this constant disaster
you live through. You
un-shutter your eyes
each morning to decide
which projects of self
-improvement to try,
every single one
surprisingly difficult.
And what more
can be said for you
and your crumbling
foundations—floor
we all know is sinking
down into fallow earth?

Thanks for reading! This year I'm writing poems about moving into my first house and dealing with a lot of drama and evolution in this and other parts of my life. We'll see where it goes.