Aquarium Self


I am waiting for myself
to curl into a warmer position.

The skyline backdrops my breath
and I want to hug its posture

into my coat and exchange spines.  
I want to reverse my breathing

like a net back into my lungs
to drag everything

inside my aquarium self.
I hope one day

behind these shades they name
a street after me. I donít have room

to believe in much else. My heart
isnít the shape they had us draw

and Iím afraid to know
what it looks like in there.

I will tattoo all of this onto my chest
to become a more sensitive person

and my being will color opaque
and my breath will look so real.


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C.J. Opperthauser is a co-editor at Threadcount Magazine, an online journal of hybrid prose. His chapbook Cloud The Shape of Bedroom was published by Tree Light Books. He blogs at thicketsandthings.tumblr.com and lives in Providence, RI.