Painkiller

I’m doing this

Instead of the dishes

After a lusciously lonely walk to the mailbox

Inhaling the crisp air

I fight to hold onto the words in my head

The ones I seem to always lose

In between diaper changes

And drawings of trees

I wish for the first time

In a long time

That I could smoke

But I can’t

Don’t really want to

What I really crave

Are the breaks

And don’t worry

I’m not really sad

Maybe it’s the worthless snow

That falls and fails

To stick

Maybe it’s because

I had a bad dream last night

It can’t be the bourbon

It must be

What all parents feel

The consecutive days indoors

When the weather is at it’s worst

The constant pivot

The seemingly endless shuffle

To the end of the line

Is it forgivable

To write so solemn

Before I have even finished penning the joy

Of her birth

My quiet bright eyed peach of a child

Who coos and smirks

And smiles and sleeps

Fills every couple minutes

Right up to the top

With genuine awe and wonder and peace

For all my happiness and extreme fortunate blessings

For my happy family and story book love

There are still some monsters

I just push further back

Into the closet

I can’t talk about it here

I try not to give it voice

Handle it’s razor edges

Or come between it’s scuttling claws

Death has seemed to dog me

Not me personally

Invincible rag doll that I am

Still

It takes

With annoying persistence

As it makes it’s dusty way

Seemingly unchecked

Through the world

Still

I know

As I arrive at the empty mailbox

I know

As I breathe in the chlorine cold

That Death has been bested

I know

That I don’t really want

A cigarette

I want

“A far green country

under a swift sunrise”

I want the skies to roll back

To be

Cast aside

Like a dirty table cloth

I want the world before the internet

Like the people who wanted

The world before steam engines

Eden

Before The Fall

Slipping off my shoes

Into the warmth of the house

I’m back to zipping pajamas

Nuzzling newborns

Emails about shows and merch

Songs and singers and saints

Where the drums are too loud

My Love faithfully takes the barbs

Meant for another

Loves me anyways

And always

Later

He’ll tell me all about myself

It all swirls warm in my glass

I answer the text

I’ve been hiding from

The one that makes me remember

He is Father

To the fatherless

This life

Is not the final shore

We are

Always

Making our way

To the back of the wardrobe

A quick puff of breath

Into uncooperative precipitation

The smaller hand

The sacred stroll

A narrow way

The melting crystalline cube

Drowning in the middle