January 20th: Size: 2T/3T; Weight: 30 lbs.

January 20th: Size: 2T/3T; Weight: 30 lbs.

Your absence distributed itself

like an invitation…

When I lay down between the sheets

I lay down in the cool waters

of my own womb

and became the child

inside, innocuous

as a button, helplessly growing.

I slept because it was the only

thing I could do.  I even dreamed.

I couldn’t stop myself.

                                Rita Dove

                                “The Wake”

And then

what about: I couldn’t

help myself

because I can’t

I can’t help

thinking: Who?  Who will

fold your five

year old’s new underwear--

she’s been needing

them for weeks

and finally after enough

of a gap between the cheat

and sweet boy (sometimes

friend most times

tyrant)’s hands in your pants

pockets you scrape six

99 for a pack of Fruit

of the Loom and Dora

and Boots and Map

and they’re there in a bag

(receipt in case they need

exchange) beside

your bed.  Who’s seeing

her innocent run through

the kitchen with such new

relief such glee who’d think

this--THIS could be

all you need to make your little

girl happy: new clean

fresh hers.  Who

will even remember now or know

you went all the way

out on two busses

and picked through pack

after pack and bought

(a few cents to  spare)

and brought them back

and he was there

again

and you dropped them

and he called you

and he called you

again and again

he called you whoreslut

who were you bangin' off

with.  The same song

his heroin prong forearms

slip in and out of your hair

and he’s so high

on his righteous stride this

five year old's 

home from her bright

kindergarten light, she walks in to

stare at you going cold

past her a slow

stride out the door

dead before you make it

official a day later (though

where you were in between?)

where were you when you kissed 

your mother’s cheek, where?

And a chair to stand on/

And a rope or a belt/

I don’t know

and  you don’t know

you can’t know I want you

not to know your five

year old still

waits for you.  Even

as  you kick the chair

away I want you

to not

know this.  Even as your mother

cuts you down

I want you not

to know this falling/folding

down like you do

your perfume puffing

up to her face, no sweet girl

I want to, I can’t help

myself, think

you only felt him

his hands on your throat

and thought to finish the job.