Poetry

water balloon

the human body is apparently
sixty or eighty or something percent
water, however much, I can't
remember, but whatever it is
mine must be more than usual
because of all the tears
I've choked back and kept in
over the years, it must
be a big water balloon, barely
solid, ready to burst at
any moment, and it must be
very salty too. I'm only
guessing this, you see, I can't
feel anything; occasionally I think
I will open up like a
summer squall and drench the floor
and my clothes, but always
it would be inconvenient at that
moment and later I can't.
Now I think I'm dry like
taut latex, tied at the
top, wobbling a bit maybe, but
will the knot be undone
somplace safe, will I stay intact,
or do I see a
small child with a pin heading
with purpose in my direction?