Me, Undone

I’ve been trying to place an order online all day.   Bubble wrap. Human size.   No shipping to Mexico.   Scroll down to the bottom of the page for a number. Give me the phone.   What is the code? 001.   Let me out. Let me call.   Ring. Ring. Ring.   On the line. Robot loop speak.   Numbers. My ears are ringing. Press 1. Press 2. Press 3. No number for bubble wrap. SOS.   Jam zero. Over. And over again. Get me to a voice. I need bubble wrap now.   Estimated wait time. 11 minutes. 10 fingers. I count down. Almost. Almost.          Ring. Ring. Connect.   "Hello, how may I help you?” “Ma’am, it’s an emergency.” “I’m leaking out. This world.”   Voice pause.   “I need 23 rolls of extra large bubble wrap shipped to Mexico right now.” “For what Ma’am?” may I ask. Press lips to receiver. Open mouth.   “2 arms, 2 legs, torso, head,                               cracked heart.”

I came to earth for flesh  To bend this spirit into body   To become the thing   To know the thing   To touch water   This is the mud packed with tiny sticks and berries in my hand bones   The soot, traveling up the cracks of my toes   The spring coils at the base of my neck and the glides of my hips   There are boulders  That will fall into the story of your life   Like rhythms  Meteorites smashing down   On precious land   Each weeping wound   Becomes a port hole for transformation   Pray down over those sacred spaces   Remake yourself   God   again   And  again