I am sitting at my desk,

Cool and collected.

Completely cool.


In fact, I am sitting at my desk

Cold, sparkling

Scalp like a fingertip on ice

Bells toward the wind

High on this mountaintop.

My legs aren’t closed so tight

It hurts.

My hips don’t twist in this chair

When nobody is looking, and no,

Why would they?

Everything is parallel.

There is no overlapping of skin here,

And no snow soaking deliciously into

folded layers of mud

Or sky.

I am sitting at my desk.



How are you?