Everyday Occurrences

Because I could see the end from the beginning,

knew where all of this would lead—

the unappeasable offspring and unbearable bulk of my body

like a dead scrub jay in a nest of hummingbirds—

my legs folded until my bottom kissed my heals and

my reaching-up hand gripped the butcher block so

tight the nail beds drained to white,

while the children stared over their toaster waffles

until I snapped What are you looking at? 

You have three minutes to finish your breakfast!

which they did, dutifully, a side helping of fear

floating in the dark syrup of their eyes;

implacable, I pressed my knees harder to the floor,

as into hot sealing wax, an execution decreed—

they don’t know what gathers against me,

the third baby’s spit-up stinking through

my last clean shirt, the minivan bullying its

way across overworked asphalt in a dead heat,

my mind emptied of anything I could remember—

and my feet made a sliding escape behind

as my cheek met tile.

I imagined the floor’s hardness absorbing my prone form,

sucking the weight of me down, and

the promised coolness that lay beneath

cast a wisp of enchantment over the gray day.