Sarah Herrington

i did so many downdogs on you

i must have mistaken you for a yoga mat

floating

in the east river.

 

as if

if

i did enough horizontal sun dances

with the earth

i’d find it

 

underneath

tunnels

sewers

 

i don’t appreciate

the jitters you gave

pushing me in front of

the 6

buckling downtown

 

i’ve been learning to stand up to you

for years

 

in currents that collect

at harbors

shoot up the empire state

lightning rod of nadis, white light

 

i’ve made space

with eyes closed

and it’s bigger even

than you

 

you don’t stop

but neither do i.

 

balanced on each other

us

like two boiled eggs at the deli.