Outlines

The bodies of Pompeii 
left behind only imprints in the ash.
We poured plaster into the holes
and they became real. 
Recently I’ve never felt so
in control of my own life, freed
suddenly from the way other 
lives touch my own, but this
newfound agency leaves me
formless, 
unconstrained by
any outline. Fuck borders 
but you know what I mean. 
I miss being shaped by
other people. The golden
morning light
fills my hands,
but what’s the point
when there is nobody there 
to bear witness,
to make me solid?
I open my palms
and the light disintegrates.