CALL ME BELOVED

I used to fit in broom closets,
contort to whichever shapes
twisted best into basement blanket bins –
I found the quiet corners, slipped inside,
hiding, holding breath until forgotten.
Safer to be discarded. Safer in stasis.
I recited strange prayers
listening to that silent dark –
 let me fly away from here,
smallest, scared songbird –
 make me invisible, please
 make all of me bleed into
 the weight of these blankets –
safer to disappear.
Safest to not be
anything at all.