Green Peas at Stake

The Pain of Packing (Dew Drop 27)

The Pain of Packing

To conjure up happy unions
between unmatched pieces,
I go through my closet
my eyes like searchlights.
          Will it rain, will it shine?
          Darn this season of changes!
          I cannot be hot; I cannot be cold.
You'd think I'm getting ready
for the end of the earth or
a trip to Neptune. Folding this,
wrapping that, my body twitches
in anticipation, and I'm
a sniveling worm, which cannot
conceive there's a life
out of its cocoon. Disgusted
with indecision, just anything
I dump in the bag as if
fingering amulets that strip
my fingers. Finally!
I am a woman,
and this is not death.