Mama the Insomniac

Published in Issue 1, Vol. 2 of Formidable Woman Sanctuary.

Into the early morning hours
you pinch your eyelids shut,
praying for sleep.

Mama—
you roll out of bed off-kilter
like a dodecahedron.
Some mornings easier than others.

Sometimes
I don’t like the parts of me 
I see in you.

The cat stretches onto the bed like
an alphabet—
new letters every morning.

I left a fork in the Vitamix
again; scrambled the
kitchen ceiling.

Mama—
teach me how to shift the planets by hand.
How to tie my shoelaces;
how to stomach broccoli and catcalls.

Bloodshot eyes over the bathroom sink,
toothpaste dripping down your chin like ice cream—

Let us compare convictions:
I will trade you my silence for an accord.

Our family is a nation unto itself;
a language in and of itself.
We vote as a bloc and argue over dinner.

Mama—
these are old dynamisms;
you draw the trajectory
and I pull you along.

Formidable Woman Sanctuary is a journal of art and literature.