Wednesday, October 6, 2010


we're at the bus stop. your eyes are still heavy-lidded with sleep.
you watch her spin herself silly and sing school songs
copying her 2nd grade friend's mannerisms, the way you sometimes copy hers. 
does she look different to you?
she has one foot in another world already, leaving you at home.

you don't really mind.

after school, it's all she wants to play.
you're not interested. she screams at you to do your math
so you come upstairs. we put picture books back in the shelf,
Library Workers right now. it's quiet in here.

but at bedtime i sit in the dark with the baby
while out on the couch two sisters sit side by side.
she reads to you
you lean against her