the world

when i was of a certain age
god got out his belt and lashed the planet
to my back
and how the oceans tipped back into my lungs
and how the land crashed into my chest
there were thunderstorms
going off in my head
and voices that sounded like hurricanes in my ears
my body driftwood
and yet a kind of gravity
milking all of the world’s problems
my waist swelling
the moon with a box of kleenex by its side
watching me weep
the world is big
and hard, i suppose
it is the rucksack that never leaves my shoulders.
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