someone packed
tightly in their hands, compressed
me into the form I am. And then
pushed me down the mountain

hill. More was added upon each turn
and spill. I collected **** from the dogs,
dirt from the kids, smog from the horizon,
shadow from the moon rising. And then

I sank to the bottom as the leaves do
in autumn. And I sat, collected in my fat
unmoved, until the sun came out. That’s when
I turned into a puddle.