I place one ear
to the floor and hear the creak
of bending boards,
the rumble of straining brick
and the hiss of broken pipes.
This house
is constricting,
twisting,
coiling itself, shrinking
to hold my body in place.
I need to get away. Any day now
I'll wake up folded double,
heels-over-head
and knees in my chest,
splinters of ceiling plaster
embedded in my back.
Any day now,
my shattered china bones
will have faded into dust.
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