something

Heat in your hands

Paper on the floor
bent by crushing weight
wheels not on the rug
on the paper on the floor
twisted not torn
unseen yet felt
like heat too warm
in the hands


Sometimes something comes over me, I can’t explain it
It is a suffering that I want to go away
That I do not want to endure
But nonetheless it is there

I can take a shower
I can get dressed
I can go out and visit friends
I can cook, and clean, and do laundry
And iron, but that something is still there
Like it is now

In my chest a hand pressing down
Is it my heart aching, or breaking
Is it my heart yearning or churning,
Is it my brain cooking and reaching down inside stirring up emotions
Desire
Is that what it is
Heat too warm in your hands