routine with toe bones & pacing. 

sometimes i waste water on purpose, leave 
the sink running all day long. it's like
spilling lake after lake. we had a project
in elementary school about conserving water
where we were supposed to tell our families
to take shorter showers. to check for 
leaky faucets. i told my brother to hold up
his hand & i noticed all the leaks
between each bone. this is the same for me--
for everyone in my family. shedding water.
puddles on the carpet & droplets 
on the kitchen floor. no i don't actually
leave the sink running. we would have to 
pay for that but in my chest there's a sink
that's pouring out. i twist the handle to try
& make it shut but no-- the knobs don't work.
there's overflowing. there's drowning.
as part of my routine i try to screw
all my bones back into place. i start
with my feet, holding one high in the air.
in the closet, my father has steel toe boots
& i put them on to go stomping 
on the ceiling. it helps to wake me up.
i am a metal storm cloud. i am grey 
& dripping. i don't know if we're geysers
or wells but each of my family members 
has always looked like somewhere to fall into.
i keep an inflatable life raft in the cupboard.
i fill the steel toe boots with water
& drink out of them. i am always the first one
awake. i can spill my water in peace. 
in school they told us we're running out
of water & i wondered if one day 
i would turn on the faucet in the bathroom
& nothing but bones would come out.
i decided to not drink water until 
my bones stopped aching with rust. 
i drank water from my father's knuckles.
this morning i will still count
the bones in my feet-- pressing gently 
on the surface as if my feet are 
tide pools. ecosystems of wanting.
i drink water all day. some rooms i own
are full to the brim. my feet go flipper.
my feet leak a whole sea & there are
starfish in my joints. i scale the wall
of a boot & climb inside. nothing can
break my feet here. i am safe 
& filling up fast with water.
i guess what i've been wanting 
is someone to tell me that the water
isn't real-- to let go & fill the whole
apartment. to let myself wake up
on the ceiling. i want a lover to
hand my feet to so she or he or they
can count the bones for me.