Years after I first met M and C a little boy who I love more than the sky read The Cat and the Hat and expressed appropriate alarm over the treatment of Thing One and Thing Two–but they are children! He emoted.
Yes, Darling, there are many things about this story which trouble me also.
The first time I met M and C they burst through the door to the CPS waiting room. M was talking her usual mile-per-minute and both were whirling balls of energy. They went directly to the pastel plastic playhouse in the corner of the room and they reminded me of Thing One and Thing Two.
I wonder if anyone else wonders what happened to Thing One and Thing Two when they were all grown up?
Who knows how late it will be when I end this torrent of the lost, broken I can still see the expanding circle of dancers bobbing and curtsying on the first day of summer, longest day for you, beloved miracle, they have all been miracles slipped through my fingers as the recollection of the picture I gave away becomes distant
Fierce. Apocalyptic fierce.
Hard to pin down–lion or dragon?
Always was just
A way to remind me of
Adopted mom–denizen of the ordinary. Ordinary tea, ordinary clothes, ordinary mulch, overgrown flower beds. Scans the sky for rain. Rattles around in the-used-to-be marveling at how things have not turned out as expected.
Nondescript kitchen window transforms itself into stained glass as I overthink which teacup, settle on porcelain white so different from the non-Euclidean trees green, alive, and fierce in this hot summer wind
two bags into the single cup, pour water from the kettle, assess how full the tea tin used to be
Last time we were alive