On Using Your Arm as an Airbag

I like to think of myself as holding the world in my hands.

 

Not

power-hungry holding the world or

God-complex holding the world �"

although feminism is fun

(however abused

and cliché.)

That is not my meaning.

 

I hold the world because

I took a personality test and got

Blue.

Mother.

Grandmother.

Chocolate chip cookies and a La-Z-Boy rocking �"

 

and I’m told

I’m a really good kisser.

 

Nevermind that I have a natural inclination

to self-sacrifice

and listen

to bleed from the heart.

 

Careful it doesn’t break!

Such a precarious thing.

Volatile, precarious

snow globe of a thing.

 

I’ll take these small hands

and stretch them out

and cradle you all

in a vast palm basin.

 

I can take you up on my shoulders;

a piggy-ride home �"

Kneel down beside you to take up oak mantle.

I’ll help you carry that

up the rest of the hill.