The Box
My mom used to say
“Good thing I didn’t name you Grace.”
Because I am a bull in a china shop
A force of nature that is contained inside
Passion and fury
Beauty and rage
I feel these concepts
These ideas
They are tangible things
Like limbs inside me.
But you.
You found those limbs
Like arms and legs
And fold them neatly into the box.
In the beginning, I was grateful.
Finally, someone to tame the beast
I grew up believing I was.
In the beginning, you were gentle.
But then I grew.
And the box wasn’t safe anymore.
It was tight
I didn’t fit anymore
I tried to tell you.
I tried to warn you.
I don’t fit anymore.
Now you still fold me
Shove me
Break me
So that I still fit neatly
Inside the box.
