Up. Down.
Words without meaning.

I only know there’s no need
to work hard to push blood to my head,

no need for these muscles, these bones.
Here, they are a burden.

I let them thin.
They flow away in my urine.

From now on, I’ll float.

I can barely remember what it was like
to rise, to walk,

the effort it took
to clamor to my feet.