Over the Summer, My Trainer Said

Image Description: A shadowy anthropomorphic form with its face obscured by glitches surrounded by white smoke on a dark background. At the center of the figure is a ribcage, colored red and white.

There is no need to breathe in, for if you must know, with every exhale you

inadvertently suck in a little air; our bodies desperate to survive,

to occupy, to take and consume and expand–– a bit bothersome, isn’t it? But ignore all that

for now and shrink, the bones of your ribcage will not shatter like that first man’s when he pressed

his heavy body upon Lilith and she, in her first and final defiance, whispered

His secret name and was thus forever expelled, vanished from records of the Paradise

of Man and man alone.

Ignore. Shrink.

Activate those muscles you have torn apart with your own 

shoulders (swimming, you said?

we’re not doing that anymore), your abdominal muscles are separated––

don’t you see? They shouldn’t be doing that,

the way they split is only earned by bodies sacrificed to labor but

no matter, I can fix you

sew your sinews and muscle strands tighter together

so that they may bind

the defiantly outturned bones of your ribs–– see

how the left side protrudes more because of your heart, you must shrink

a little harder on that side–– like a flesh-laced corset; let breath be the needle with which

you stitch yourself whole again. Your legs are a beautiful shape; 

they could look very nice if you lost some of that muscle

right there. In, in, in–– fold your bones toward each other, collapse them, quick

breathe out even more, yes exhale, let it empty you in penance: hold the raw aching 

hollows of a cough, contract,

contract. That’s it, again, breathe 

out, deeper now, much better, you’ve been practicing I see;

good.