Some days I have wind
instead of bones
and I am knocked from wall-to-wall
from the inside.
Some days I have frost instead of skin
and the slightest touch sends cracks
trailing like kite tails
up the ice.
Some years, my spirit nests
behind a bone door behind my heart,
draped in so many oceans of shadow,
for a long time, I did not know it existed.
When it limped out,
I realized that report cards do not sum up years
anymore than marriage papers sum up couples.
Still, I cannot forget
that my heart is a giant feelings chart
forever being poked like a button that won’t work,
if you’re happy, smile.
Scared? You’re angry, not scared. Why would you
be scared of me?
Thispoem was written for we wordle number six.