again.
I’m
spinning
out of
control
again.
Stepping
over
the edge
again.
Knocking
Pounding. Little fists
falling against the wood
of my bedroom door.
Wake up, sleepyhead!
Daddy has to go to work.
Devon’s voice is bright
as the sunshine, painting
streaks on the walls.
I throw back the sheets.
Blood. Lots of it. Great.
My monthly visitor. At
least I don’t have to feel
so bad about not calling
the doctor. No need for
the pill today, anyway.
I clean up, strip the sheets
from the bed and take
them down to the washer.
The girls are in the kitchen,