how could we expect to hold it all
without it brimming up
and pouring out from our eyes and our lips
with words
all of it
all of this

a package was left outside of my door
and my body felt hunted for a moment
a moment before I watched a girl chase a butterfly
through knee-tall grass
sing-song laughter like the swaying reeds

somewhere nearby, someone is dying
while I am trying to go back to sleep
curled up in a sunspot and clouds pass by
and a cat stretches out
under a rusted, old van

the man who owns it may be an old soldier
maybe falling bodies have been reflected
in his eyes
maybe he has just watched his grandson
tie his shoes for the first time
and he finally cries

how could we expect to hold it all
without it pooling from our eyes
and our lips
all of this
all of this