Lauren Adams

Spinning

These days I spend spinning

Twisting the tips of my fingers till they’re thread no thicker than sand

and weaving my way under skin with half hitches and figure eights 

these days I spend

wondering where my knuckles end and the macramé begins 

spinning half truths into white lies

spinning hard wins into failed tries 

Wind me up and I’ll go spinning 

Wind me up and I’ll claw my way

Wind me up and I’ll eat you 

Spinning 

Free Verse

I. 

When I breathe I think about my body 

changing with every moment, changing I 

think about my cells replacing themselves:

they’re shedding the me I no longer am,

 they’re becoming the me I always was

I am/they are I am/they are I am

inseparable from all of this flesh, 

inseparable from the air in me,

inseparable from the air outside,

inseparable from all that we are,

I want it to mean much more than it does,

I want it to mean much less than it does,

I want it to mean something in language:

to burst forth through the fleshy bowl of me. 

Sonnet

XX. 

A hot day and I am delirious

A touch of sun to wake my skin and drench

my hair my face my nails my eyes my feet

I’m warm for the first time, every time. 

A hot day and I am so delicious 

My sweat like soda pop my hair like silk

My muscles all soft like smooth sourdough 

My teeth all shine, my feet all strong and sure. 

A hot day and I am all myself

Awake for the first time, every time

Alert for the first time, every time

I wonder if I can capture this sun

into a jar for next time I feel 

so lost, an unfamiliar creature. 

Sonnet