room floor, plop down beside him,
close my eyes. Tread a pool
of murky water, dreams gone
stagnant, or brewing dementia.
Somewhere I hear a baby gurgling,
giggling, cooing. Somewhere I hear
a baby fussing. Crying. Screeching…
But I can’t wake up. Don’t want
to leave this place so very near
sleep. I have to. Can’t. Have to.
Won’t. No, I’ll deal with it
when I come up for air. Up from
this place I’ve finally settled into.
Sleep. Deep, deep sleep. What is
that noise? It won’t stop, like an
alarm clock without a snooze button.
Suddenly I’m ratcheted awake,
roughly set on my feet, pushed
out the front door. Mom’s
crazed face parts the cerebral mist.
This is the last straw, Kristina.
What’s going on? My brain
feels like mush. Behind Mom,
I see Jake, holding Hunter,
who’s howling like he’s
just been bitten. “Wha…?”
You are leaving. And Hunter
is staying. Do not come back
here until you’re completely
sober. And don’t even think