During the pandemic quarantine, I learned

how to fold into myself like an unrelenting fractal.
I’ve always been terrible at keeping up, staying
in touch with anyone for long. My friends, my family,
I do love you from across the borders of my leg,
of my throat, my sweet and wicked heart. 
I smoke cigarettes in the dark, in the morning, 
thinking about the birds caged in their trees,
the storm a-brewing. I think about you,
the lack of moths that used to beat their powdered wings
at nearly any light. How you hardly see them anymore.