I was born with wide eyes and legs that ache
in the middle of the night, legs made to run wildly
through the forest. So yes, I understand
why you see me as an animal, why you're always grasping
for a net, even though your fingers had gone numb
from a long time ago. You write about me
in languages that I can't read, in a tone that's either
a blessing or a prayer. An affirmation or a question.
I'm sorry, I wake up sick more often than not.
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