When she closes her eyes, I do.

I think we all do.

“Allow your mind to become fascinated

with your breath,” she says.

I think of my brain.

What else could a mind look like?

Brains make me think of science class. I feel queasy.

The letter F floats over a periodic table.

“Breathe in and out through the mouth, deeply. Notice,

take the journey of a sigh.”

My chest tightens. It always does when I concentrate

on the breath.

I get on board my sigh, traveling southbound

from the shoulders as they fall, sadly, capitulating.

“Give light to your eyes.”

I open them. Guilt pulses through me.

I must see what people look like when they give light

to their eyes.

“Soften into your form.” She says this with her hands

on either side of the small of my back,

hoisting me upwards. Soften?

“Find your stillness.”

My arms and legs are trembling.

Sweat is dripping from my nose, splashing on my mat.

Stillness is over there, in the girl who has no pores,

who only eats purified air, half portions.

“Stay in this vibration. It is you giving yourself a massage.”

Twenty people are pushing and rattling me

from the inside – none of them are me.

“Bow to the light within you, within all of us.”

I got this. I feel this. Thank you, teacher, thank you,

fellow students, thank you self though

there is no self. Now

I have to rush—

the line for the shower could take an hour.

There is a sign on the wall.

Please observe noble silence in the studio.

“Light to the eyes,” I say to the teacher, on the way out. “Good one.”

She glows back.

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Assistant Editor: Daniel Garcia/Editor: Bryonie Wise

Photo: Tiffany Assman