near symmetrical. I do all the math.
My husband tells me I look beautiful
in a mask; I dye my eyes to match it.
Woman and wife are the same word in French.
I feel most free when I’m standing braless
at school drop-off under a giant coat.
Girl and daughter are the same word in French.
I held water in my mouth for decades
to keep it from going dry if I was
ever asked to speak. I dream of chainsaws.
I cut a small incision in the neck
of a haggard, weeks-old birthday balloon,
let the air breathe itself silently out
into the world again. My air. My breath.