Alone in the bathroom at 4 a.m.
I sit with the toilet seat down.
Try to think of nothing,
benign. Try to dry the tears
from their source
by wishing, praying,
sop up the ones outside.
Cover my mouth
so sobs won't explode into
quiet house sounds;
serenade my madness.
I can get up in another hour
off the toilet, out the door.
to begin the daytime noises;
clacking at the computer keys,
coffee brewing, teeth brushing,
rushing to start the day.
*Take a line from another poet's work and write a new poem using that line.
From Mary Rosenthal Mansfield's "Three Minute Wait." (Alone in the bathroom at 4 a.m.)
Scent of candles, low light. Encapsulate nature, continuation of home.Palm trees catch every breeze, soft seats for writing and thinking, oaks sturdy and magnificent overhead, native grasses, fire pit lined by
boulders, natural seating from storm downed tree. I flourish.
The team rushed you off, out of sight. Steady
stream of commands then hissing,
suctioning machines. Filtration
of fear all around. No one said
a word to me.No eye contact. I closed my
eyes, didn’t ask, didn’t look, mumbled,
Please God, before oblivion. I could see
you from time to time Through panels
of glass and the hum of your
breathing machine. Lights blinding. You were too
vulnerable and dependent on machines,
wires, and tape.
were brought into my darkened
room. The blue
clad nurses an entourage
see the reunion of mother
and miracle child.
strong, wondrously made
ten toes, all the right appendages. They handed
you to me.
you in my arms, couldn’t see for tears, but
I found your precious cheek. That kiss
has lasted my lifetime.