a poem

8/19/25

the baby

The first thing I seriously consider 

when I get a spare minute away from him 

is what more I could be doing for him. 

so this is motherhood? insanity? 

is motherhood a kind of insanity?

it’s not even obsession. though I love him dearly, I don’t feel in-love obsessed. It’s just this constant, knee-jerk reaction 24/7 like: “is he OK? Is he the best he can be?”

8/20/25

was thinking how ghosts can influence ideas and weather and seemingly so much for being “dead.” i mean compare that to us – living now – how exponentially much more communication we have at our disposal, for a limited time.