why not me?

why not me, mlb

She gets the first word because she has time to

While I carry the day 

in heaping loads of laundry & lunches

She drifts freely

Like a wild toddler following his emotions

Chasing bubbles across the yard, 

innocent but callous

And the world parts for Her

Why not me?

She points fingers that twist & curl like sour milk

While I load dishes into an overfilled machine

Barefoot pouring coffee & slicing morning bread

Listening for the creak of the bathroom door

  

She floats by me like mist, her bones ghostly untouchable

While my body thick & soft 

is kneaded & reshaped into the lee of a mother 

Starved only for a small scrap of the time She tosses away so carelessly

She whips like water against the haul of my craft-I can hear her knocking,mocking the blistered crew

But She won’t ever come in

She dances hot & dry in her own head

While I am drenched with little voices whispering out from their universes 

Their needs blanketing me 

weighted & loud like winter-rain

She tosses her chin in anger pushing back any who would dare to doubt her

  

Ignores the night by turning on all the lights

holding court, basking in her own reflection

While I travel by the light leaking in the small panes running the servant's stairs 

If I was like Her I would go off chasing antelope

bath in re-factions of light

drown myself in words

Marie Antoinette the children at the garden gate

and forever sleep in the hot sand

Why not me?

…Because it never was.

And it never will be.

Even though, sometimes I wish it were.