a trail of ants walks out the bath room window

their bodies form a string so i pull it. 
the house is made from folded paper 
& the room turns inside out
into a blow-up box. i put my lips 
to an opening & empty myself of air.
without air i am a just a knot 
of clothing. my skin turns to mist.
the ants are making patterns all over
the walls. they're making trap doors.
they're making promises now too--writing
words with their bodies. they explain to me
that they never believed in humans
until they saw me with my hands &
all my crying. i sit on a windowsill 
& contemplate jumping but the world outside
turns all to paper. folded street lamps
& folded sidewalks. nothing to 
break me on. i am an egg now. 
there's an expatriation date 
stamped on my teeth. i ask strangers 
to read it aloud to me. i have 
4 days to be eaten so i'm looking
for a good huge man. a man who understands
ants & who considers insects each morning.
i want a man who folds houses,
whose thumbs have made creases.
the asphalt is crawling ants--
all of them hungry for sweetness.
what will you do with your desires 
to shatter? who will fold you a house?
all the glass becomes water.
puddles on the floor. i drown 
in one of the puddles but not before
i walk on water. the ants follow me
across the water--their light bodies
refusing to sink. what do you really know
of a mouth? everyone i've ever known
wears a paper one. it falls off
in the rain & they have to make new ones.
the last boy i loved folded me
mouth after mouth after mouth.
i asked him if i could please
love him forever but forever became
a string of ants in my mouth.
he pulled the string. i turned
inside out. he became a bright window 
i now peer out of. i now sit 
on the edge of. there's a constant
sense of falling in my body. 
i want meant to be water. 
i am water.
the ants scrawl prayers 
on my palms.
i read them left to right
left to right. i am being
saved. i am making a god
out of glass. the house becoming
clear glass windows. the sun 
a wade of bright insect
screaming into light. there's 
a man laying down in my bed 
but i don't recognize him.
i cup my hands & fill them 
with water. i'm going
to baptize him. i pour the water
on his forehead & he disperses
just like i knew he would. just like
all men want to. 
they're experts 
at escaping.