My body can’t hold everything inside me.
My mind: a twister contained in glass.
My skin: that glass jar cracking,
I’m a small fish, desperate for a different pond.
My mind spins, a tornado devouring glass.
Spin the globe, see where my finger lands,
A small wish to explore this big, big pond.
I tell myself, you could be anything.
A spin of the globe, where do I plan to land?
It’s a small world after all.
I tell myself I could be anything,
I could break through the walls of this life like an egg shell.
This world is so small, after all.
My life: no more than a minute.
I could break through the walls of this life like an egg shell,
emerge newly formed, covered in down.
This life: no more than a minute.
My skin: a cracked glass jar.
I’ll emerge from this wreckage newly reformed,
with a body that no longer needs to hold me.
Taylor Mehling (she/her) works by day in IT, writes poetry and prose by night, and reads voraciously in any moment spare. She proudly participates in the Writespace Houston community to hone her craft and learn from fellow artists. For more poetry, you can find her on Instagram @thewritertay.