Poem Text:

Drop the Marbles

But they feel so cool 

and glassy against my chest,

these trinkets I have cradled, 

called a comfort, rolled synaptically 

across my tangled mind through

troubled nights, playthings 

for children becoming my burden.

What if I let them all     

go                   

hear them        thunderclap 

against the wooden planks, 

scatter in every            direction

past my bare feet, 

rain clouds                  spitting

blue beads     across        the living room,

dew of color    turning 

to mist, 

disappearing

beneath the area rug

behind the couch

beyond my own willingness 

to find them,

hold them, 

love them?

If I leave them, 

will anyone else ever 

find them?

Will they ever

find me?

© Jenna Brack, 2021