Silly how the world turns.
Silly how the blame and fault burn
with questions with no answers.
Silly how the dead are silent.
Silly how I write on a coloring page
while my son beside me plays
“silly horsey.”
Silly “how could they?”
Silly “why don’t I?”
Silly mind.
Silly heart.
Silly life.
Silly how old habits come back.
Silly how old wells stay dry.
Silly how long it takes me to pray,
repent and return to my son’s game.
Silly horsey.
THE DRIP OF TAP WATER
FROM THE TIP OF A COMB
DOWN THE NAPE OF MY NECK.
THE SQUIRMING STRUGGLE
AGAINST GENTLE
HANDS DETERMINED TO MAKE ME PRESENTABLE.
AND I WISH–
NO. I MISS THE CARE OF MY MOTHER
GETTING ME UP AND
MAKING ME READY.
AND MAYBE IF ANOTHER
PERSON COULD BE BOTHERED
TO BRAID MY HAIR WITH TAP WATER
I COULD GET MYSELF UP AND BE READY.
