Skin Cell

In the box inside the box the dust this morning and the coffee.

Thank you for the coffee, this morning, and the dust inside the box inside the box.

I'm bad at unlocking and plugs I'm weak and can't see patterns. I have a hand exerciser. 

In the box inside the box I piled the bits, the jokes and jewels. I unplugged

my computer with such force

I punched myself

fell, small boned backfire, what size am I? A box inside a box. Tape. A bag.

I fell folding, once, my tailbone throbbed for months until

in packing up I left and laundry dreams forgot.

This is the year I began the cleanest

of any year I've ever had; in boxes I had gathered all my dust 

with help at last