"Rowboat Over the Atlantic" by Amish Trivedi

I have become
my own airbags, admitting
I’m more willing to break
than be broken. These words are
not mine
anymore, but they are a revenge
lay. And I used to sit
outside, slumped over feeling
boxed or stigmata over the
soil. Steps line one side, a
jar. Rain and saliva become
the next tabloids.