The One Thing I Finished In Poetry Club

I began inside a living, breathing creature, bundled up with six others just like me.

The first thing I can remember is not being able to see for days, but hearing, sniffing, moving, breathing.

My mother was holding me by my neck,
My father, becoming a father to another half dozen.

I spent my days with pencils and blankets,
Doing whatever I pleased,
Playing, biting, drifting off and away.

But today, I am a piece of a meteor, encircling Saturn here in my playground.

Someday, when I get to climb the willow tree where my mother would sit beneath it, I will get to eat as much as I please, not a thought about my diet, avoiding being scolded.

I will stop worrying about nobody coming back home and instead remember that I once sat with you as you cried, becoming covered in your pain, giving you nothing but my love.

When I caught the fly that was annoying you, I will forget that I once but you so hard, blood shed from your body.

I am your bundle of joy, and I try to never change your tone of voice.

I am your bundle of joy, and one day you will know that I was your best friend, even though words never rolled off my tongue.