Convex

The toaster is too bright

for a Tuesday morning.

I was trying to screw the plastic

back onto the lever

but I got caught in the side.

My forehead is a silver hill.

My eyes are stretched out thin

and sliding toward my ears

in the curve of the chrome.

Everything is upside down

and shiny and wrong.

The smell of scorched crust

is filling the room

but I can't stop looking

at that metal version of me

who looks like he's melting.