Why I am unimaginable
these days —
appearing whole to myself in no mirrors,
neither literal nor figurative;
merely an apparition when in person,
an uncertain wisp to some, dismissed
entirely by others.
All I can think of, really,
is the discomfort I feel
in various parts of the body,
the structure I used to feel
was a grand little house.
The creaking these days
from the corners and the eaves
drowns out any clear being
in the decay. Somehow I’m still here
but undiscoverable right now.
Disintegration; not showing as whole.