• Every slight touch is a siren,
    Some days it sings, some days it screams
    Tight neck and tighter shoulders
    Singing about dark rooms infected with summer heat
    Screaming about coming home to see the porch light off
    Proud chest and small mouth
    Singing about stealing back Sunday mornings
    Screaming about missing about missing family breakfast
    Short legs and fragile writs
    Singing about rooftop picnics and oblivious neighbors
    Screaming about wasted daylight and unmade beds
    The hands, the face, the hair, the waist
    Singing they don’t belong to me
    Screaming they don’t belong to me