school
the next day. Craved down
time when I had to gear up,
sustenance
though I might throw it up,
silence when I knew my
family
would be waiting to share
news of the day. The very
monotony
I had lately disdained
cried out to me: I am
essential
without me you will
wither, like this
summer
folding up into fall;
freeze hard, water in
winter
awaiting the first breath of
spring; uproot, grass in a
wind
blown into tornado;
parch, like earth denied
rain.
Mom’s Car Wasn’t in the Driveway
Which Roused Me
riled me,
made me
want to