Untitled Anthology for the 20 somethings

state of matter / sea swallow me/ finale

I am the softest now in all my years of living.
Ready and eager to be shaped into something new.

So tough was I in my childhood.

Solid in the shape of my parents desires. Solid in the shape of my schools overly painted plastic hallways. Solid in the shape of all my friends clothing that didn't fit. In the shape of the weight of me, and the weight I shed still clinging to my frame. In the shape of the churches basement washroom, where I gripped the sink in order to breathe, preparing to face the god upstairs.

I was a girl then
And now,
I am not.

I do not know what I am yet.
Or what I will become next.

I do know,
I will be brave in my creative approach.

And mold myself forgivingly.
With intention, with mistakes and with pride.

Sea Swallow me

Unlike a set cast, made to lay on a sculpted form and hardened into place.

This time I am the liquid in the cup,
and I let myself spill.

I let my self sink into the wood and ruin it. I let myself seep into the fabric of unsuspecting clothing, be mopped up and rinsed out and filtered back into a larger system down the drain.

Carried beneath a living city that moves on it own. In its underbelly, for a time, considering myself waste knowing I will one day pollute the sea.

It will take years for me to become something healthy again or a scent of the same clean state I once was. And in the journey, I hold the image of who I was, hoping to return.

When I finally am cast into the sea by a large pipe spewing into the open lake
waiting to be made again
into
what?
the image in my mind forgotten in the fall,

I am old and polluted and letting my self melt into the things around me now.

I am not clean,
but out in these open waters
with no cup body,
swallowed by a sea,

My shape is indefinite.