Imagine how much
we take into the body

Dirt we breathe,
insect parts we swallow,
hairs in our food,
lungs caked with smoke and resin,
grief we store in our muscles

It’s no wonder
cells stop dividing,
dying off one by one,
joints grind down in secret,
blood learns silence

We carry
the weight of unsaid things,
each heartbeat
a strained apology,
each breath
a labored remembrance

All this taken in—
bit by bit,
until the body forgets
how to begin again

Previously published online in Pictura Journal