Jam Jar

You took my lid off
Peered in
Poured in
A little bit of you.

All day, clouds and sky and birds
Passed over my lidless head
Like a boiled egg
With its top discarded, in the bin.

The air got to it
And the stars and the wind
Bits of dust and muck and leaves
I didn’t notice that no more of you came in.

But by then (of course), it was too late
That little bit had dripped
Right down, through the brain
Into my retinas, my mouth, my chest.

Dripped into my gut, my legs, my feet
My fingertips
Then suddenly
You put the lid back on. And left.