Wednesday, April 15, 2015


I wake up slow, dreams lingering, whether good 
or dark or strange, they hold 
my arms and whisper. I wake up slow 
and stumble through routine, because routine 
is another kind of medication for me, 
an antidepressant that doesn’t come inside 
orange bottles. I have to want it. 

Breakfast. Meds. Reading something spiritual and then 
there is coffee and the kids are gone to school and the house 
is quiet for a while. I am slow though - 
slow to get started. 

Dishes rinsed and in the dishwasher, and the coffee 
drips into the cup and 
should I pack boxes or work on a project? 
I have an essay due and the floor needs to be mopped. 

Up the hill of the day until 
the school bell rings and the kids come home, 
and I am tense, trying to balance one son’s moods and 
the other’s exuberance with my own 
exposed nerves, no pills entirely shielding 
me from this. 

I ride the wave, 
and the black water swirls 
so slow, 
no hurricane today, 
just a bathtub draining. 

Back down the hill, I am Sisyphus, 
until the sun sets and the clock blinks an okay time 
to sleep. 

I fall into the fresh cleaned sheets 
and vivid dreams... 

fall slow.


I'm needing a jumpstart and a poet friend, Shaindel, mentioned these Poem-A-Day prompts for April. This one was to write a poem about an adjective.

1 comment:

Leave me some lovin'!

Disqus for Madame Rubies