batteries

i always wondered where everyone

got their batteries from

until i realized i

was a wind up toy

not a battery operated one

my spine is an accordion

pushed down with

the weight of some musician

expanded by the same

my heart is a muscle

made of paper and charcoal

my lungs are memory foam

they remember what it’s like

to breathe without you

my brain is an interpreter

for all the battery operated toys

i never got the hang of a second language

maybe because i had already learned one

my mouth wants to tell you things

sometimes i swear it wants to go solo

sometimes i swear i wish it would

tongue tied and teetering on an edge

of course the edge is only five feet

off the ground

i am still afraid to jump

for I’ve been fooled before