In the night
I made nests
Of Double Bubble pink cotton batting
To protect the bluejay blue
Eggs of my joy
I swaddled the orbs and whispered
"Don't crack. Please don't break."
I would cry. I would die. Maybe.
I mounded the fluff over top the happy spheres
Making protection against disappointment
Delay. Lost things. "Dulles, we have a problem."
I pressed pink softness against my lips
Tamping, muting, containing
The raucous, ebullient spray of aqua Alka-Seltzer foam
It longed to projectile from within to without
I spoke inside my mind.
"Not yet, my pretty fountain."
I imagine they, and she, fear the depths
And the altitudes of my emotions
Eighty-nine days ago they glimpsed a dropperful of my despair
Before I tamped, muted, and contained it
But joy?
Surely joy cannot be contained.
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