keeping your head
above water . . .
sink or swim . . .
going along swimmingly . . .
meeting one’s watery grave

phrases that have crept into
everyday language
surely, but slowly
as turtles and tortoises
move, to catch up
with the times
and integrate—

their huge, but soulful
eyes taking it slow
and steady,
as they navigate
large bodies of water,
dragging their entire
house with them—

something I might want
to do. I can’t see myself
leaving behind
year’s worth of “stuff”
I’ve carefully harnessed
that makes me
who I am.

Parting out takes
courage and
endurance. I know
it would break me
bit, by every bit.