While Instagram fixes my PCO

Piece 0 of the many notes I created in the name of experimenting with funny poetry

I open Instagram

the way one opens a window

expecting air;

a woman stands in morning light

holding a glass, the color of effort.

she has already lived

a full day

before I have located

my will to sit up

I scroll,

another voice

explaining my body to me

hormones —

arranged into neat, pronounceable problems

solutions —

lined up in jars

seeds soaking

with purpose.

I consider this,

briefly,

like one considers

buying a yoga mat

and becoming

a different person

by Thursday!

I scroll,

someone says

it’s simple..

I look at the word

for a while

the way one looks at instructions

and decides

this will require

a personality upgrade.

my phone grows warm

like it is also concerned;

I place it aside

lie back

stare at the ceiling

which has never once

asked me to optimize anything.

morning arrives

without a checklist

I follow it,

slowly,

carrying myself

as is.

today,

feels like

enough.