Lamina

Have you forgotten what it's like 
    to be a body unhomed, untethered, 
unguarded? 
           Sometimes, I admit, 
    I have been shameless. Haven't you 
ever begged favors on behalf of those
    you love? 
              Nothing preposterous— 
only things like friendship 
    and time; words for a wound,  
space for a grieving. 
                      A snail  
    finds its way to the windowsill;  
its slow track, also a seam. 
    You are not weak 
                     to leave 
traces of where you struggled 
    against the ground of being.