Let me unfold myself into a map
and call it me, the legend
a box over my left chest–
what would have been
heart. Mark the great latitude
and longitude lines. They’re etched
like tattoos. My voice, pages
rustling like money from the lender.
                                                                Honey,
it’s time for dinner, but how do you know
where to go without me? Thumb yourself 
a sleek app and leave my leafs be–order
delivery, if you can afford it without me
to guide you. Trust. I can be direct,
or I can atlas myself and
carry that burden for years.