Mania

[nibbed]

Hi Elizazile,

I have had threats of approaching mania, that feeling of plate balancing
(and spinning) in the past, so this poem is understandable to me.
Thank you kindly for the read.





I wake, a waitress                                                    wake can mean two things here.
Balancing five or six plates,                                      a desperation to keep many things in balance at once
Which I refuse to set down,
And carry table to table instead,                         
Thrilled to be put to work.                                       happy for distractions at times

All aflutter for weeks now                                         excitement about an event or happy time ahead
I can't quite say
That this feels good anymore
Just that slowing down 
wouldn't;
Would be a puddle of milk
Spilled and seeping,
Threatening to down 
My tower of tenuous tomorrows.

I no longer feel my center
But see myself, the center
Of a web of glass entanglements                                 I understand the compulsion of a glass sea
Sustained by never glancing away, 
Shattered by a deep breath                                        the end here puzzles me


Have a wonderful day.
I hope your writing brings you
warmth & comfort. Blessings.