Female

36

What am I?
I arise from the quiet sea, soft and silent
as you barely notice me.
Then I erupt in number, and multiply,
slip through the cracks,
take hold of your hand and drag you outside.
You spill out onto the open ground,
stand up drunkenly,
spit and cough then gasp and laugh
at the way you wound up before you met me.
Then you see what I hold in my palm.
It bounces and zings and tickles armpits and pulls leg hairs
and holds you hostage until you come along.
Then it wines you and dines you
on flavors with your eyes closed and when
you’re perfectly full
it drops you through a hole in the wall.
As you orient yourself to sideways
you see the the bowl you’ve been living in
and back you go, cackling.