There’s this
thing
I can only hold.
It’s all I know.
It’s all I know – of.
It moves.
I can handle it. I sit here and stare at it.
I’m in it.
It’s this,
blob.
Kind of. It’s dry but gelatinous I guess is how I’d best describe this lively composite that’s on the inside.
I move it and feel the weight change.
It moves.
It’s like the blurry-paced motion of bouncing a Slinky back and forth between your hands –
but only in slow motion.
Probably slower than you’re picturing.
It’s opaque
but I can see things.
Scenes.
People.
Not really.
I can’t imagine so.
But swirls of dust, lust, glitter, and energy that start to
kind of
look like all that.
Sometimes the weight changes.
Sometimes it gets heavier and doesn’t seem to have any reason as to why.
It doesn’t get bigger.
It gets warm.
And cold.
Cold-er, I should say.
Sometimes the particles inside hold together tightly
and it lobs from one hand to the other.
It gets gooier sometimes
to where I can feel the weight of its matter
invade the space
between my fingers
as it flops off the side of my hand
jiggling
and plops into the other.
It has – feelings.
It gives me feelings.
I don’t recognize this-
but I know I must take care of it.
As if
everything
depends
on it.