Monday, April 19, 2010

Poem 18 - Balloon Stomach

There is a balloon in my stomach
Air keeps getting pushed into it
I keep expanding

My mom could not afford helium on birthdays
So she would duct tape balloons to the ceiling
At sundown we’d pull the strings
And stretched cake and handle prints would burst
Into little scraps over the gray carpet

The balloon in my stomach does not lift me off ground
And I wonder whether I’ll ever dangle
If I did who will pull me down
Who would pick me up?

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