These Days: A Poem

I'm good at laundry these days.

The dryer is always running.

My floors are mostly vacuumed. 

I make my bed every morning.  The days feel fresh that way.

The kids have clean underwear and the socks they prefer and only occasionally get splinters in their feet from our old and brittle floors. 

My husband and I communicate in a way that would make me scoff if I was watching us in a Rom-Com - no married people get along that well. Fuck this movie.  

Therapy + a mutual desire for marital greatness. Also this: "Can we just come from a place of assuming that neither of us are being assholes to each other?"


My kids keep hugging me and I keep kissing their heads.  Their frustrations - at life for being hard, at me for saying no sometimes - don't feel personal.

I haven't meditated in almost forever. 

I'm keeping a few secrets.

My friendships feel simultaneously close and distant.  

My desires are clear: acquire a full-time job, discover real financial security, pursue creative endeavors, keep up with boundary-maintenance.


Enjoy all the coffee.

Sometimes eat the bread.

Always keep asking, "Does this feel good?" and if the answer is 'no', shake shit up in real time.

I'm a micro-level-game-changer; my aim is small and local.  

I'm shining where I'm planted.  

Silently vocal.