i’ve boxed myself again
post office files a change of address
anonymity betrayed by zip code
i’ve unpaid last month & hope for deposit
transferred utilities, transferred myself
to a place on a map.
boxes shuttle in out up down
the car seat disappears with stuff
brakes and mirrors are for optimists
cardboard structures ache with books and books
damp laundry goes stale in trash bags
new walls speak a foreign accent and stare.
bathtub, sink, toilet bowl, doorknobs
smell genetically unsound
without my imprint.
bedroom window sees nothing familiar
and i can hardly see myself
it’s a voyage only dreams uncoil
until this undertow
in transferred reality swells
and I swallow water again.
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