tear it in two and walk between

i'm not sure how long ago i caught the thread
that used to tie the days together
but i know it's been awhile since i saw a seam
between tuesday and wednesday
or found the hour that is only
for resting frail bones.

i can see how my thin fingers and small wrists
must mean danger, because i remember stories
of women with see-through skin like mine
who did not come home on winter nights.
(not enough port wine. not enough red meat.
too much sunscreen.)

but i can no longer afford to live
under the oppression of headaches,
the fear of freckles and cancer
i have troubles. i am not hungry anymore.
i have lost everything you gave me to hold
(my taste for company. my taste for food.)

i have lived so long
with these holes in my pockets,
a little loss will raise not a single alarm
and i could lose whole days and nights,
whole facts and whole falsehoods,
without batting one eye.

(till there are no more things for falling out.)