POETRY | SELF | LOVE |GROWTH
Menagerie of Me
A poem that reflects on the pieces that make us unique.
As I cradle this old wine bottle,
Label long gone, decades of dust layer the rim,
My fingers tickle the dried cabernet tears,
A roadmap flowing from mouth to punt.
.
Through the antique green glass,
A misty Golden Gate cloud floats free,
Licking the inside walls, this cloud,
A sliver of peace from memories of the bridge.
.
I funneled my smile into the opening,
Not my insincere grin,
But the warm smile my son saw,
As he opened his eyes for the first time.
.
Hovering my nose above the opening,
I gently wafted air to my face,
The aroma of tamales and laughter emerge,
I tenderly bottled my childhood home on Christmas Day.
.
Jiggle the green bottle to stir the contents,
To elicit a tiny rattle at the bottom,
Hold the bottle up, discover the silhouette,
The shadow of a sharks’ tooth I found on the beach.
.
Wrapping my palm around this emerald container,
Feeling the ice-cold crackle my flesh,
I trapped the sting of winter which lashed my face,
As snowflakes caressed my body for the first time.
.
Engaged in a ghostly, underwater tango,
Tattered crimson filaments dance about,
The collection of my splintered heart grows
As I navigate a litany of heartbreaks.
.
A tiny ball of light dangles in the center,
Illuminating the dusky bottle from within,
This star plucked straight from the night sky,
While I stargazed as a young girl in the young fields.
.
Intending to gift the bottle to another,
I secured a tightly coiled ruby bow,
But as I gaze upon this menagerie of me,
I feel my vintage cannot be carelessly gifted, yet again
.
As the shadows of my life dance upon my face,
I shred the bow from my precious collection,
Returning the bottle back to my locked vault,
Not to be given away, rather, waiting to be well-earned by another.
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