I should straighten up.
Scrub. Make the place
presentable. Habitable.
A place I want to be in.
But I’m exhausted. Sore.
Sore. Too sore to pick up
my stuttering baby. I warm
a bottle. Similac pacifier.
Then I locate the phone.
“Mom? I know it’s late,
and I’m sorry. But I need
you to come get Hunter.”
They Say a Picture
Is worth a thousand words.
Mom studies the picture
that is my apartment, says
not one word except, This
is the right decision.
I kiss Hunter good-bye,
knowing this is the right
decision, knowing too
that I probably won’t see
him again for a while.
He goes to Mom with
enthusiasm, gooing a hello.
Poor baby should be fast
asleep. He’s going home
now. Home to sleep.
I will not sleep tonight.
I sit in the dark, staring