My prayers reached no higher than the ceiling . . .
When I remembered to pray them.
(Only a quarter of my brain seemed to be functional.)
We stopped school early to go to the pool,
And most of the boys didn’t have the great time they expected.
All my hard-earned extra pages: poof.
At life group, we were chatting as friends,
But spent a half hour in unproductive, unnecessary conversation
About what to do next, and I didn’t recover my cool all night.
I started a load of laundry after midnight, trying to get a jump on today.
Phil woke me with the words: the washing machine is broken.
(So that was the beeping I heard as I fell asleep.)
I watched, for the first time, the reading assessment with Joe.
And though I can see now what I couldn’t see then,
I am still heartbroken at how hard reading was for him, for so long.
The announcement of the announcement
Of the National Book Award Longlist reached me.
And I felt, with a physical longing, how much I wanted my name to be on the list.
And so I moved through the motions
Of cleaning and kitchen prep during the last two hours of wakefulness
In my silent, not terribly prayerful, kitchen.
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