(a blackout poem)

I stayed home

working against progress, 

I said nothing. 

 

I expect

shaking, 

tightening my veiny hands. 

 

Fight back. 

 

The spine 

I probably didn’t even have. 

 

Release. 

 

Years I had 

opportunities to learn, desire. 

Building muscle alone. 

I pressed play. 

 

It doesn’t compete anymore. 

 

Shrink.

 

I, in the living room.