a few days from now the snore next door will not bother me.

i will be left in my own silence with no one and no anger.

mothers and fathers the original sinners, weak bones knocking

together, make a pound of flesh and cancer.

one foot in to begin the sink

disposal churning body

just before 

a brief rest on the ledge

call the wave
all the hands
of angry bears

pretzel belly lying flat
pants off and away
did i bruise my leg
or did the bus driver
go too fast?

i had loved before, though not as a mother.
i am a mother now, and drop my books
when i hear the baby calling me. phantom
winds blow the curtains in her bedroom,
so i close the windows, so she may sleep.
there is enough air here but when she wakes
i wake. i wish i could run out of the room
and into another, take with me the window.