An Exercise in How Small I Can Shrink Myself

I’ll start with the toes,
curling them towards the ball of the foot
in a less imposing pose.

If I bend both legs
as the knees intended,
I’ll leave more sky untouched.
A crouch keeps the calves and thighs
butting up.

And if I bend the arms the same way
along their analogous pivots,
that will limit the air I’m inhabiting
between the joints,
so long as the elbows stay tucked.

I’m sure if I keep my head down,
chin to chest in my best impression
of necklessness,
I can give back some
not imperceptible area.
And if I shut my eyes
and mouth
I can occupy two fewer senses,
rid the earth of my perceptions.

I apologize in advance
for any flatulence
omitting unbidden from orifices
I’ve not managed to close.

But if I ball up the hands,
I can mitigate the fingers:
their reaching out, touching,
further extending me.
Hands are much more capacious
than fists will be.

From this fetal position
I’ll consume, fill, and absorb
as little as possible.
Perhaps my silence,
the absence of my breath
displacing other atoms,
will allow me to leave—finally—
more than I dare take up