poem: living spaces

it’s so full out there,
nowhere to breathe among the benches.
float a vessel and flip and drain it;
say it’s keratinous, it’s porous,
it’s neither-here-nor-there, it’s okay,
and swell up, airborne.

the possibilities are endless out there.
they cave in and point and shout:
it’s so full in here!
sunken, grounded, and with nowhere to go,
crawling out of here and cramping out of there,
all of it fighting for admission.

the possibilities are endless in here—
and yet there’s no such thing as a wandering fixture.
the walls hum unawares.