emerge
my daughter tantrumed so bad outside lucky that a woman accused me of disturbing the peace and threatened to call the cops. life was one long screaming, him in the house, her on the concrete, the little one in the crib. my ears echoed all the time. there were bottles and bottles of pills to even out the chaos. i was the housewife knocked out on benzodiazepines, cabinet full of options when there were none. there were no poems only what the fuck is wrong with you and no and no and a running wondering about how stupid could someone be. here’s what i’m afraid to say: i own this morning. these hours are mine. and you can go ahead and call the cops or raise your voice or your hand or damage my reputation. everything has already been lost and yet here i am. this is mine this page each letter every alleluia. good morning.
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August 2020
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