my life as water balloon

my life as a water balloon

At birth, round and rolling, the entity of my underbelly grew

thirsty for form. My greed matured in the roundness of cheeks.

Balanced between points of disassembly

even the earth sets me aquiver

threatening to puncture, and I, threatening to burst.

Even then, you took my stretched skin in your grasp! Fingers pressed into pink folds. The swim of my insides channeled tremors throughout the extent of me. I felt it, the churning drink pushing, pushing at my already stretched flesh. And knew: what I sight I am! The flute of my puckered lips, drooling.

Yet, you took my rubbery weight, my sloshing innards,

and cradled me with two hands,

and breathed warm words of my defeat,

If only.

The ground returned, I found the beginning of another steadyward journey.

Now my skin contracts,

temperature-less and yet unburst.

Author's Note

I am very selective about the poetry that I like and even more critical of my own. Though this is a old poem I like it very much. I hope you did as well.

No water balloons were harmed in the making of this poem. Please review.

Reviews

[Jane Taylor Hardy]

Creative and fun I enjoyed this write!