They continue to surround me.
Not just the daughters who often
hold my hands while I get
ready in the mornings,
but now the mothers have come.
Dozens of them sit around my apartment,
different-aged girls lounging with them –
some in an embrace or simply an arm
around the shoulder.
Laps filled, arms cradling,
bottles bob in the pot on my stove.
Sometimes I can look at them,
watch them touch hands and lips,
smell the floral and baby powder,
Other times I walk out of my bedroom
and scream
You can breathe!
God damn it, you aren’t going anywhere!

04/04/2006

Posted on 04/04/2006
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