Clank

I want to clank my fist
against the armor they’re constructing
inside me.

Rattle the scaffolding
just enough to let them know
I know

there are laborers hammering away at this
shiny new space suit

they’re building inside me

I can feel them hammering with their tiny hammers.
My skin can feel them all

so I can
survive

this new terrain.

For example:

coffee shops, I’m told,
are where humans
like to sit and read.

To write short poems.