I think in differnet places.

 

Calculus is in the crinkled skin of my forehead

and tight at the apex of my scalp

 

Marching is in my bones

and meaty joints

 

Music is in my eyes and mouth

And at best, tense in my larynx and core

 

Writing hovers riotously in my belly

And spills from my twitching palms

 

The hard sciences are in the air

And I grasp for them

 

Art is in my soft yielding heart and

my miming mouth and brow

 

Stress is coiled around my uppermost vertebrae 

sharply poking into between my shoulders and lower in the small of my back

 

Procrastination is in the biceps and

the weak chin

 

Inferiority is in my viscera and

more painfully in my tendons

 

My loves are in my lungs

like liquid

 

My grief is in my throat

like choking

 

My fears are in my thighs

They tremble

 

And it spreads from there.