Column of Bone

I’ve been a fist for hours,

shoulders hiked up to my earlobes

like I’m waiting for a ceiling to collapse.

When I stood up to clear the plate,

my neck made the sound of a dry branch

snapping under a winter boot.

I reached back to feel the C7,

that hard knot of bone

sticking out like a warning light.

Everything in me is stacked

too high and leaning

against a wind I can't even see.