Sonnet

another doctor, stand-still thinking,

sweat licking on my forehead beading,

thoughts stew below forever sinking–

“he’ll never know what I am needing.”

 

another night of light returning,

mirrors like owl tell only who

is looking, squinting, repeated yearning–

“I don’t know how to still want you.”

 

another baby faster coming,

childhood absence like spinning reel;

if parents from him were always running,

“how am I supposed to feel?”

 

a stop.

and like a still, small

whisper:

 

“no need for time or right devices;

a little lifting heart suffices.”

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