It was years ago now
Sitting in a privacy cubicle in the parents’ room in the middle of a shopping centre
Playschool on the tele on the other side of them
Seeking some rest before attempting
The epic effort of loading the car with baby and self
Back to the place of endless labour
and insufficient sleep
Feeling a little self pity
At my lot
As a single mother
not by choice
And a voice
From the next cubicle
Where two local mums had been talking
Cuts through my ruminations
“Babydaddy’s a useless C##T anyway
All he ever does is
F**k putrid hoes.”
Yes, I remember that.
I hardly feel like writing
I barely bother to read
Wanting to be fed
by the feed
Knowingly wading through
the mire that
saps my soul
Overriding self-imposed time limits
In a tacit agreement
in arriving at that nihilistic state of
I Hate Everything
I am humbled into remembering
Meditation and Exercise
are my true salvation.
The day is calling me.
Put down the phone.
Bedtime brings such joy
First sip of tea tomorrow morning
Am I the one for whom you exist?
No caffeine from you will pass through my tits
For wakefulness you shan’t be blamed
Nay, nor thanked…
You’re a bit like chocolate incense- nostalgically reminiscent of the real deal, but not a spot hitter by any stretch
Breast is best breast is best
yes yes yes
I absolutely get behind the list of benefits
I challenge anyone to forego BOTH sleep AND coffee, then tell me “breastmilk is free”.
Oh subtle maiden, so light and ephemeral… are you even real?
Who was your namesake, that you are such a simple pleasure, in your blue Twinings paper gown, with an arousal so light that you tempt me a second time?
Today’s early start and less than well child take their toll as the afternoon wears on.
I urgently scrape the wet side of the last piece of Turkish delight through the icing sugar, hanging out for a hit of false zest.
Water, some nuts, perhaps a meedjool date – I know what I ought to do. And I do these things earnestly, I do. And in addition I crave my fragrant mistress, who seems to promise that she’ll never tell.
Please don’t, my afternoon darling. Don’t tell those neural pathways of the night that we have trysted so late in the day. Our romance depends on your discretion.
For you serve me not well as a morning friend. Not even your husband The Earl will do as a prelude to that exotic dark beaned stud who visits just once a day.
No. Your place in my heart is discrete as it is discreet. My 3:00-5:00 pm liaison. And in that window, I adore and revere you.
But ’tis on days such as these that I may seek your pleasure double.
And if I dare, and I know you won’t dissuade me; how can I know that you will let my True Love, Sleep, wrap her most sincere arms around me when I seek my nightly rest?
How can I trust you not to jostle with her, taking me in rapidly changing directions through diary entries past and future, through refrigerator contents, choreography ancient and yet unknown, through band names, song lyrics, childhood wounds, current concerns… oh light touch you may have; but I know your secret depth.
As I know what you give me in this moment; as the stretch in front of me gapes wide, alluding to another walk, (this time with teapot, unicorn, and boots on the wrong feet), more trampoline bouncing, some kind of cobbled together evening meal and the epic bath book etc end of things… of course I need your sweet whisper of courage.
The bergamot on your breath urging me to recall my optimism at sunrise; your warmth in my mouth softening my every cell to continue my gracious surrender to every moment’s gifts.
Your soft lips brushing mine, with a lightness even more delicate than that of your notoriously gentle husband. Oh my treasured friend, you know I favour you above herbal remedies, or excess sugar, or the sensible option of a protein snack.
So please, as we repeat our most adult dalliance within minutes of the last sip, I beseech you, as the kettle steams in anticipation of our second kiss of the afternoon; betray me not, as I lay me down tonight.
Let me find slumber deep and sweet, and your place in the front of the drawer you shall keep.