I looked at my wrist to remember myself.

See,
I’ve been sliding away, lately.
Bits and pieces of me melting
On everything I touch.
Messy. (Embarrassing.)

And how exactly should I
Walk this Path when
sludge footsteps pull me, always,
back to my origin?
Pieces of me floating within the instep,
Toe mound rolling idiomatic,
Heel grinding /me/ into the pavement.

I’m everywhere I look.

So - string of beaded intention,
Remind me of my political boundaries.
My topography rolls outward and away
But my pulse beats arterial against you
Me. Me. Me.