Summer's here.

Lazy dogged days,

sleeping past the

sun's brutal rays

and my son's insistent

yelling into his computer headset.

"Hey, Parker. Hey, Parker,

can you hear me?"

I can hear him,

even under his

younger brother's

beehive droning whine

"What can I do?"

Don't tempt me kid,

I have a laundry list

of nagging chores like

that pile of pool-soggy

boxer briefs you

hung up on the bathroom floor.

Toast for breakfast, burnt

like my bare thighs

on my leather cookie sheet

car seat.

When we run out of bread

and patience.

Out of rhythm, still slightly foggy

and Pavlov-ed to a school bell

I swim in sleep past eight

groggy for being up late

as I revert to a night owl

chasing a drunken muse or

catching 40 blinks of a Netflix show.

The days lie long

across the hot cement

trip me up in their

endless length.

Begging to be filled

with shoes and beach bags,

tents and forts,

and hot, wilted lines

waiting for a thrill ride

or just to be inside

air-conditioning for

a cold minute.

Summer's here.

A time to cheer

when the school calendar

grows near

and life goes back

to scheduled chaos again. 

Me and my shadow lover,

Demon-wraith of my brain.

Rewired like solid limbs.

Sinewy, like stale red vines

Stolen from my son’s

too-bright jack-o-lantern

Binging for both he and me

As he winds shadow chains

Around me.

I like it, even crave it.

The chain linked worries

I’ve forged like Scrooge’s

Spectral miserly train.

There’s one about money

empty and sharp like the knifed-pain

in the belly I massage when

buying me-treats,

one Target purchase at a time.

Another’s bent-backed in an S-chain

looking at its feet in defeat.

Her name’s self-doubt,

hunched away from her “dear” friend

who coos well-meant kindnesses

like voodoo needles on how to fix

my hair so i can care to fit in somewhere.

“It’s okay, you only need me,”

My lover hisses wet inside my ear.

“I’m here to be your own personal fear.”

Wrapped tight like a mummy bag

Cozy because I’ve worked it

to fit my frame.

Stretching and rubbing the fabric of my mind

till I can bury myself deep and nest.

Or fester, happily interred,

Undisturbed and alone,

With myself and him.

The manifested darkness within

Who promises to never leave me.

It sunny, its hot, yes, I see that it rained

Like drops of small talk

That stick to me, vocal humidity

We compare calories

And size each other up

Putting each other in invisible boxes

smart, pretty, athletic, and lazy

Our common ground is kid-talk

The whine about whining

Or wine-ing to numb it away

An awkward pause stands between us

The stranger needling us to talk

To fill chasms of empty space

As we await rescue from our kids

The acquainted strangers I see everyday

Just a paper-doll mom

Cardboard thin because we don’t let anyone in

I blame me too

A closed-door face behind examination eyes

I lack the words so I let silence speak

I am an iceberg mom

Cold, sharp, and best avoided

Idle chat crashes against me

And drowns under my deeper thoughts.

Little boy, little boy its shaped like a hose,

So why don’t you control where the stinking pee goes?

I’m tired of the stink, I have to complain.

Please little boy why can’t you fricking aim.

You’ve sprinkled the walls, the sink, the floor

Son of mine, mom can’t take anymore.

There’s a yellowish dribble stuck to the side.

Why can’t you just aim it and pee-pee inside?

And please don’t leave the damn toilet seat up

So I don’t feel like I’ve sat my ass in a cup

And don’t pee on the seat, it’s not very fun

To have someone else’s warm pee stuck to your buns.

So please hold your penis, I know you are tight

I see you with your hand down your pants day and night.

#comedy#motherofsons

What if mom forgot to turn off the lights?

Pick up your shoes and referee fights.

What if she never washed another dish?

Didn't do the laundry or feed your fish.

What if mom didn't make you a snack?

Didn't remind you to take your backpack.

What if she never picked up your clothes?

Or wrappers, socks, and misplaced Legos.

What if mom never read to you in bed?

Didn't kiss ouchies or cheeks or foreheads.

What if instead she slept in till eight?

Waited until she was refreshed and awake.

What if she relaxed and read a good book?

Or watched T.V. while someone else cooked.

What if mom never nagged you as well?

Let the house get dirty and start to smell.

Or what if instead you worked as a team?

Maybe mom would be less stressed and mean.

See moms want to play and have lots of fun.

But she can't if her work's never done.

Oil and water in a diet coke bottle

pretty droplets of red food coloring

bouncing through each other's viscous membrane.

Like my son and I we push against each other

But don't mix this morning.

He needs all of me and so do I.

He stirs and shakes and tries to meld me to him

But I resist, needing to melt in my own mind

A pretty power play that sits doing nothing in a bottle.

It's my birthday today.

Yes, I'm getting older.

My hair is greying,

my mind is fraying,

my ass looks like two sagging boulders.

But its my birthday today,

and I'm still breathing fire,

my tapping feet still dance

I've got a fine romance.

So watch out world is what I say.

Age is just a number,

and I'm more than a sum of my years!

Heat nuzzles the insides of my knees

like an unwanted advance,

I kick him off,

"Put on your pants".

Not in the mood for sweaty nights,

as Sleep sadistically watches me writhe

her somnambulist potion

she teases and deprives.

A sticky, sopping trail

Heat runs tongues down my front and back

my night-shirt clings to sweaty breasts

his saliva puddles in my crack.

"Go, leave, get off", I kick him away

Aiming the fan at my skin

But his hot mouth asphyxiates my words

As I open wide, he dives right in.

I'm prisoner to my Summer lover,

he won't let go till Fall comes back.

He pins me to damp sheets and laughs,

as Sleep just watches his attack.

Once Upon a Time

A young mother died

An orphan princess cried

The noble prince's bride

His jealous step- mother tried

To kill.

Grimm's murdered a mother's side

Of the fairytale.

Time to pay the crime!

Who controls my life?

You.

I gave you the key,

the power over me.

My insecurity

Needing a like,

a heart,

a part of me

craving security

from obscurity.

A comment

on my submission,

to you.

To your acknowledgement.

On my accomplishment.

I'm addicted to praise,

a social media craze.

I'm not enough anymore,

an online whore.

Or maybe I never was.

The insecure child

who aimed to gratify,

 now grown up,

needing a praise high.

Because she's nothing

if she's not seen,

invisible and stuck between,

who she is and who she wants to be.

#poetry #challenge