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.
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.