Overflow

sometimes I overflow

like bubbles down the side of a glass

blown in through a straw

by an overenthusiastic child

sometimes it's beautiful

like the very first moment a mother

holds her child, the first moment

they breathe air and speak

sometimes it's awful

like losing a pet, so you go out to search

but as you make your way to the road

you see them lying there motionless

sometimes it's incomprehensible

like the concept of infinity or zero

something difficult to define

something with which you cannot divide

I used to panic whenever I would overflow

I'd try desperately to push the soda foam back in

sucking in through the straw

to no avail

these days though

I just breathe slow

because I remember

this is the process

this is being

sometimes it's messy

like me

but I'm allowed to overflow

as life does

and that's how we melt down into one

for better or for worse

it's awfully, beautifully incomprehensible

so it goes