Cartwheeling, back-bending and tumbling every night
through spiraling tunnels of what might have been
if I had stuffed the extra Abilify tablets in my carry-on,
if only I had closed my eyes and drifted into even 
a restless sleep riddled with hazy dreams on the plane.

Waking up every day now as if I’ve run a marathon,
jumped hurdles, hurled shotput and javelin,
but according to the Fitbit it’s lack of oxygen,
elevated heart rate during the sweaty nights
in late June when I’ve tossed the CPAP aside.

Some mornings, it’s all I can manage 
to keep from tracing my fingertips across
the stretch marks that now cover me 
from chest to thighs and back again,
and it’s all I can manage not to remember
when the scale read 107.2lbs
that summer of no sleep,
when even my favorite foods were
cardboard and sawdust on my tongue.

Oh how I wish that just for a little while,
my mental gymnastics would land me
on a balance beam.