Saturday mornings I mount a heated table and gossip openly to Beth while she sticks needles in my feet, fertility, head, anxiety, ears, arches, hands, and chest. Then she drapes sage and satin on my lids and leaves me. I look at the birds and listen to the sun for 30 minutes, I used to sleep in. She flips me over and cups the toxins out of my back, desk, brain.

I pay her on a slide

I used to sleep in

she sends me home with glass bottles and muddy sticks, fire the week and drink the moon-