I am half-depleted reserve
half-reserved depletion
stores of me
float and fire
stores of me
swell and well
wrath foaming
half-baked ATP
in the wings
spewing forth
in fits and starts
in 41-minute
I deplete what's reserved
and simultaneously
reserve what's depleting
and alternate
and alternate
like a seesaw
resulting in
the northern hemisphere
of my brain
and heart
and pain
lying pregnant with
fleeting ideas
here one minute
interrupted and expended the next
and the underbelly
of my head
my heart
my pain
pulls but air
from its
and I come up
yet empty
my full tank
a fraction of what it was
yet refueled
ever so quickly
sparks aflame
like a firework
I give
what I have
on the daily
it may burn out fast
but it burns
bright as it can
what I wish
is a jet fuel tank
slow and
steady feed
what I have
is a mere

4 thoughts on “spent

  1. This is achingly poignant…you are a matchbook, each day striking forth and whittling away another match…I hope you and all teachers have a never-ending supply of matches, to get through this time…I particularly loved these lines: “stores of me
    float and fire
    stores of me
    swell and well”
    Thank you for this poem. I hope you are able to eke out rest and renewal, in the midst of all this.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. There is so much to this. Your wordplay here is so beautiful, and as a fellow teacher I feel your exhaustion and doubt and conflict – in my BONES. Your phrase “spewing forth / in fits and starts / in 41-minute / increments…” Yes. I think for me this captures just how disjointed we can all feel in drumming up the enthusiasm we’re *supposed* to have, while still wondering what happens if and when that well runs dry…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much – as you know it’s a very uncomfortable feeling and I’m not glad you have it, but glad to connect to you as a human and fellow teacher. Yes, I agree with what you’ve said!

      Liked by 1 person

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