Too Full

I am not available

At the moment

Except to myself.

Downstairs the plumber

Is emptying the big tank,

Water-logged.

The pump pumped on and on

And might have worn out.

So many lives pour into this house,

Sometimes I get too full;

The pump wears out.

So now I am emptying the tank.

It is not an illness

That keeps me from writing.

I am simply staying alive

As one does

At times by taking in,

At times by shutting out.

- May Sarton

A Winter Notebook

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