If I had my way

I would expand the box around me

Right now it keeps me in

So small I lie in perpetual fetal bliss

A state of constant contraction.

To flee-

I might blow gently at the corners

Letting the womb’s edges rise against their weakened seams

Worn by time and inaction

Until I sailed high enough, so like a delicate bubble

It pops, oh so softly, leaving me to drift in midair-

But if it were so easy

I would have surely done that by now.

Instead, I would be better to fight

Unwrap my legs and smash the sides out

As if my life depended on it

Because it does

Because there is no life inside this tiny box

That contains my tiny life.