Eyes closed, legs crossed
I breathe, hoping for stillness
My mind never stops,
and I’m training it, training it
But I’m not a very good trainer
Every day I do this
And every day,
the thoughts pull me

The carpet sheds and clings
We wear it on our clothes like dog hair
Find it on the babies’ mouths,
stuck to saliva
It’s where we build trains
and pretend to go on trips
and break up fights and share toys
and calm down after long days
Every day we do this,
crawling and picking up and pulling off

The floor is hard by his bed
The bed in which he hides under a comforter
so big it has to be folded over
The floor on which I sit
and hold his hand and sing songs
that lull him to sleep
Every night we do this
Even the nights following the days
that had more fights to break up
than moments in between

Even then, I sit
Even then, I breathe


One thought on “Sitting

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