The storm rolls
across the bed
three rolls
then a sit up
dazed and lost
and upset
then collapses
backwards
in a dead fall
arms splayed
feet splayed
and out cold.
At four I am up
changing a diaper.
I pull off her lion
tights that say
“super cutey”
on the back
making me wonder
what hands
from far
away places
made this clothing
gifted to us
so kindly
but likely sewn
by shaking hands.
I hand them to the storm
and she looks at me
with an expressionless
expression and tosses them
onto the floor.
I pick them up
and hand them back
and she throws them
down again.
I pick them up
and toss them
on her face
she pulls them off
giggling in the darkness
and throws them down.
When I finally hand
her off to her mother
who rolls her back
into the nest
Lulu the dog decides
that it’s time to go
out for a pee
so we creak our
way down the stairs
and out into the dying edge
of the wild storm.
Poop happens
but it doesn't go
as well as hoped for.
I bring the elder in
and clean her ass
with baby wipes.
And this is life
cleaning one ass
after another
in the middle
of the tumbling night.
Once everyone
is settled
back on the raft
and sleeping soundly
I find that I am wide awake.
Downstairs
washing the dishes
a small spider
rappels down
from the front
of my cumulonimbus
hair and stops
at eye level
for a moment
before seeing
my expression of fear
and quickly dropping
to the slanting floor.
And the lightening
carries on
with its instant
destructions
selecting
where to burn
by some fiery
unknown calculus.
Upstairs I look
in the mirror
and remember
that I had forgotten
to remember
that life cannot
be controlled.
It comes back to me
like a long lost map
of relief.
All the next day
thunder storms
drift over the city
like alcoholics
after hours
stumbling along
the black streets.
Somehow a sunset
happens through
towering clouds
and a fragile
golden light
stretches across
the upper reaches
of what we know.
Well,
we know more.
We know about dark matter
and cancer and market drift.
We know about systems
to channel energy.
Managing loss.
Systems like gauze
for unstoppable wounds.
Another night
another storm
moves in.
Back in bed
in the raft
all is quiet
all is dreams.
These people
that I love
have gone
somewhere
without me.
I watch them
in wonder.
Each one
a horizon
lying on her side
like horizons do
slowly breathing
rolling over
unfolding
themselves.
I am trying
as I watch them
but I cannot
stop time
before I have to
leave for work.
The storm fights
through the south
rumble rumble
or is it the west
rumble rumble?
Far below
our toy houses
the almost
empty giant
buried
in the dark
listens
and waits
for water.
More storms
are coming.
The spring
unfolds.
I cannot forget
to remember.
.
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