Containment

So long I have been carrying myself

Carefully, carefully, like a small child

With too much water in a real glass

Clasped in two hands, across a space as vast

As living rooms, while gazes watch the waves

That start to rile the little inland sea

And slap against its cliffs' transparency,

Revise and meet, double their amplitude,

Harmonizing doubt from many ifs.

Distant frowns like clouds begin to brood.

Soon there is overbrimming. Soon the child

Looks up to find a face to match the scolding,

And just as he does, the vessel he was holding

Is almost set down safely on the bookshelf.