We bought pillows last Sunday—their fluff rises high around the ears, shifting my neck in God-awful positions. When did I develop such a cranky, old man’s body? Sometimes at night I feel my right leg lifting off the mattress, curling up and back as if it willing itself to become inhuman, reshape itself through an arthritic impulse.
•56/ inside piles of debris, leaves ready for burning, pyres of cast-off lives, forgotten words discarded in casual conversations
among soiled bed sheets, piled for washing: protein stains or urine mishaps, in the fashion of a body forgetting its own rules, the restrictions society places on control or release— when two bodies merge, blur territories, build points of friction—