Thursday, July 21, 2016

New Poetry Series, Poem #2

October 2010

sitting on the sofa
at two in the morning
nursing the baby and
watching the windows

of the buildings
across the street
noting lights left on
and speculating

who’s home
who’s awake
like a really boring
version of Rear Window

while the animal warmth
and weight of the baby
rests in my arms and
she contentedly feeds

her toasty skin
her hair like fluff
her eyebrows
and peony-bud fists

this sleep-bleared thing
that feels like tedium
will later reveal itself
to have been happiness

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