Because the World is Round

Elbow Gingivitis

I can feel words building up in my joints
like plaque, elbow gingivitis,
to near paralysis from so much change
that I still have yet to decide if I was fully ready for.
The philosophy of corners
and boundaries and pasts and futures
to their core are fabrications
that rust our bones- rather, my bones-
and suddenly all I want is a mantle 
on which to display the miracle of my insignificance
to the spinning of the world,
because through all my musing and droning
and planning and desiring and madness,
I still fail to find the words
to describe what this is,
and what I am.

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