99.1

The mattress is a map of where I’ve been

for three days, soaked and thin.

I’m finally cold, but the smell of the sweat

is a debt I haven't quite paid back yet.

I tried to stand and the room did a slow tilt,

dragging the weight of the salt and the guilt.

In the tub, a ring of gray skin and soap.

I need someone to help me wash it.