Brittany Adames

Where there’s a middle I’m sure to let myself wallow in it. Where there’s a room
I create a childhood in it, where there’s a hand I cover my breast with it. Where
there’s a scarf I carry the load heavy with it, where there’s an ache I slide my
thumb over it. Where there’s grief I smoke a storm over it, where there’s fucking
I make sure there’s no rage in it. Where there’s a father I very cleanly stumble
into it, where there’s a fist I want to look good in it. Where there’s a body I learn
to disappear in it. Where there’s a heart I’m forced to confuse the mirror with
it. Where there’s a portrait I move towards destroying it. Where there’s a woman
disrobed I make sure to tend to it, where there’s a paper bag I bend to my knees
to lap at it. Where a world feels anew I scramble to live in it, and where a love
feels finite I try to memorize it. Where my mother collapses I insist on being
born through it. Where my lovers are tired I dig a hole big enough to cater to
it, where they shoulder their dreams I tell them I’ll meet them in it. Where I tell
them I love them I make a mystical rapture of it.