elbow from the sky

I am not very aware of where I end
My limbs tend to get away from me
Somewhere between the sky and my
Flailing elbows cower a hundred small
Happinesses I am too busy floundering
To notice.

I am not very aware of where I begin
I am gangly thing, I feel strangled by my edges
So I shrink them, blurring the lines of myself
I tuck myself in, folding like a paper crane
A hundred ballet lessons failed to unwind my
Stubborn spine

I am not very aware of where I am
I tend to enter rooms without remembering
My reason for being there and in those
Infinitesimal moments I am nowhere until
I land within myself, feeling the full weight of my
Untameable elbows. 

I glance around myself, then, panicked
Wondering if anyone else has noticed me in my
Thundering lostness, in my loud and fumbling ubiety
Until the moment passes and I begin to fade again
Into my absence of self, my lack of beginnings
And ends.