Why does it hurt me so much? Or better – why does it linger,
Fermenting between the folds of my consciousness, resurrecting.
I wake up, slowly,
slowly to the unforgiving glare of a new day.
and it’s not just my shoulders
that feel discomfort
Because the aircon has been turned too low
And there’s no hiding from it in my small room.
I stumble from my bed, where my body is sprawled
Diagonally. Because I’m Russian and I like to expropriate
all the spaces that had once been yours.