I’ve soaked it all up like a sponge.
Sopping wet, overloaded with fertility.
I am more saturated than there are words to describe.
There’s just so much weight to carry, and it’s not all mine.
And so it’s a bit too obvious, it’s time to wring me out.
Each pregnant pore is ready to gush with the ecstasy of a long-awaited goodbye.
I’ve had so much to drink, I can’t imagine ever being thirsty again.
Useless like an overstuffed pillow. Halfway through it just became too much.
A full hard drive, with data for days but weighed down and unable to spin.
There remains a nonsensical and habitual willingness to take on more. And more. Ever more.
But the seams are bursting. The casing is eroding. As much as I desire to be available, it’s no longer my choice.
A snake sheds its skin, a watermelon rind is discarded.
Protective materials, useful until they’re not.
And in doing so, a new core is revealed.
Surprisingly, it is light and weightless.
I can unstuff the pillow, I’ll save the case for a future project.
The stuffing itself seems to have appeared from nowhere, I don’t even recognize it.
It would bring me joy to burn it. To make magic from nonsense.
The flames jump high. Higher and higher. Hotter and hotter.
Like seared cotton candy, but it’s not sweetness filling the air.
A toxic stench of “Why did I let this inside?”
And then a simple answer of “So I would know how to remove it”
And with the final movement, it fits like a glove. A knife in the sheath.
There will be no more battle today. The air is clear (after running the filter all through the night).
One simple feather lands where the whole duck used to be.
So I can remember the life it gave for me to learn a lesson.
It never made it to the plate or even to the oven.
But its bill rests now in my right pocket.
A place where I’ll rub it gently with my thumb,
counting up the days from having chosen myself, for good.
The duck’s thank you is also not taken for granted.