Wednesday, September 26, 2018


I avoid his spaces where
the wild things roam.
I stay up, high, safe.

Company to come sends me spiraling down
products in hand.
I enter to clean but find the towel hung
and folded
the toilet seat still down
no chaos of smell.

In my head I laugh
for this is what I've dreamed of.

Behind my throat I sing,
a song for the new.

And in my heart I wail
for this is at last the long long dread.

I turn my shoulder to it
and on my face I show nothing.

For I am an old mother, and
I will hoard the tally marks within.

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