Estrogen

There’s a phantom IV 
pinned to my wrist, clear tape bending
with gestures. I forget it’s there. I forget its point.
Last Fall, I bent down to gather
my breath, and only stood up
yesterday. Winter nights found me 
wrapped in saline tubes, a faucet 
at my feet, draining me raw

I think of hormones as edgeless shapes
the soft-edged square in MS Paint,
fuzzy fogs that pass through skin,
walls, homes,

I woke up and mis-clicked, today
found myself staring at your bearded smile
gazing at a sunset, a beach fire, 
a heart-shaped face at your side

the faucet broke, today.
flooded my limbs,
chest,  walls,
till the alleys of the city
sat in a thick pink haze
no one else
could see.

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