A product

What is it that I feel
as a product, nicely
packed up from my
history and thinking
now in this moment
of myself as a product
constructed and rife
with conflicting threads
that pull my thoughts
and shape my desires
this way and another?

What would it be like
to unpack the package
and see what’s moving
inside–maybe nothing,
maybe things I never expected,
could be histories intersecting,
could be bits of heaven and those
sweet memories of other days
forgotten, or could be fears
of hell’s hand clutching my
soul and in their protected?