if i could be a cat
curled into this ball on a bed
unaware of what noise could keep me awake
unaware of human suffering,
of parenting four teens too afraid to talk to each other,
too afraid to talk to me,
too afraid to build relationships
(so much like their mother, their father, this fear)
(but he isn’t even ours, how is he so much like us?)
unaware of the world outside of this fluff,
this sumptuous, protective ball of fluff,
maybe i’d be a cat.
but i’m only human
and have brought these girls into the world
and this boy into our home
and the world came corona-crashing soon after
and we only have each other
in this lonely, empty house
in this loud-mouthed, angsty house
in this loving, hating house
we don’t have this bed, this softness, this protection.
we can only find these feelings in words.
trying to speak new languages.
trying to see who or what we don’t notice.
trying to find this level of peace,
this cat-comfort peace,
with each other.
2 thoughts on “Coronatine, Day Fifty-seven”
Thank god for pets. They can be the bridge among all the angst. At the very least, We can talk about the pets.