I wonder that I might be Mercury;
I wonder that the liquid beneath my skin,
that brings exhaling life,
that clots when I am cut,
I wonder that it might appear solid
and yet still flow as liquid.
It would make sense to me,
were that to be the case,
simply because my temperament of late
has maintained a liquid solidarity
and I cannot find out why
first flowing down,
flowing down again
and I’ve become a mercurial man,
not sudden in any way,
but unpredictable even to myself.
My body has become a thermometer
my own minimal temperature fluctuation swells my mind
the Mercury presses in on the grey matter
and I am crushed inside my own body,
weighed down by the pull of gravity on a metal,
liquid at room temperature.