The Anatomy of Contractions

In the morning,

I play with the rubber

bands of my heart

            then tell them to keep

                        still.

But they vibrate

like the flesh on the

back of my thighs,

since their cellulite is

breathing.

So when I twist and stretch

them, they gag my

fingers and curve my skin,

            which was once

                        elastic.

Finally, the bending leads

to breaking, and my

ductility gets lost to

            their impulsive

                        distortion.