I sit in the middle of the bed & spread my limbs out
until I can reach the very tip of the bed’s edges
& try not to remember the times I have shrunk to a dot in its middle
& refused to take up space & took up more and more
& now the bed creaks as I sit on it, heavy
eyelids falling every time I sit down
& it has been a long day. or was it a week,
passed by in complacency & self-indignation?
or was it a year of passivity, a conduit for feet
upon my face, my body, my ever-failing body?
& so I try to figure myself out & grow only more