threaded by four

somehow i breathe
and the only thing
that confirms this
is the noise of my leather belt
rubbing
up and down my belly
like some boat
caught on an ocean
at night.

it's only friction
and even the tiniest of sparks
will burn a continent
to the ground.

here
on land,
i've got my arms
plugged into situations,
hugged by soil,
trying not to make everything wilt.

i squeeze
whatever is left
of my eyes,
and imagine
a better atmosphere.