all of march

 spent in the work/sleep haze.

i find myself calling you the ex's name

too often. what is it about this relationship

that feels the same? i have no desire

to cheat in fact desire

is absent in so much of my life right now.

i miss the desire to write  most but i willingly traded it

for a love, who, ironically enough desired

the writing side of me.I write my poems in air

on tounge, epiglotis, lips.  silently as birdsong

on a page, antithesis of writing. 

dear r am i the ass

for not wanting to raise a choice i had no say in?

i didn't even get to cum. today there is a soccer game

at daycare. the afternoon sun threatens mid C degrees

the company comprised of those i've either out

or haven't grown into yet.  i made it clear to all but the child

this is not my burden. i will help but only as far as i am able

and i am not able to attend the child's game because i'm 

on vacation. this was not in the scheduled.

and even if i were available, which i'm not

because i am unvailable to all i am 

on vacation

 i am opposed because his behaviour

embarrasses me. i didn't do well with my own son's

and am prone to witchiness with his- i realize it's 

the consequence of responsibility 

to household, of fictiitious relativativy of love

and that 's where i'm failing. i don't have enough love

for this little one because because i don't like him much

i think he's spoiled and bratty and maybe it's just the age

cuz sometimes he's amenable and polite but he knows

and i know and he knows i know that these are only 

acts of experimentation, just something he's trying on

to see if it fits and i don't know if it's his age or

to be bratty and toddlerish, but i do know that he has

trouble with his emotions and control of them

the whiny argumentative, pedantic, rule making 

must get my way i was born on a special day kid

and i think maybe he'd be served by going to church

on sunday with his great gramma (to be clear, not be)

or googling how many OTHER kids were born 

on 'his" day. 

on the other hand, i remember his birth day

as yet another family event spoiled by his daughter

and my expectations due to promises

again unmet. resentment from the get go.

just a small one to remind that life isn't mine 

to direct. but must their burdens, their choices, be mine?

if i had put my foot down, his aunt and uncle

would have been happy to take him in, if the state allowed.

they never asked. i didn't force it. my burden. for inaction.

all of my failures due to inaction. vertigo of the possible

until some other observation triggered the collapse. 

i argued for it. i explained my reasons, all to no avail.

i told him my boundaries, i would be the room mate

of a single parent. i would be gramma when needed.

gramma who don't raise her daughter's kids. i pay for

my girl's seperate house. can't be 2 queens

in a nest. other reasons. suffice to say

i pay in one way or another. and right now

i pay for my vacation by washing the boy's

pissed  upon sheets but

i'm not going to a daycare soccer game.

*

well that was settled before, but now i've written it into being.

*

all of march i watched the spring days

blow across . no rain , perfect sky low

humidity mild temps. i didn't open 

the windlows because of you i didn't

write at night, have cheesecake or cereal

for dinner because of you i 

did not lie in my bed for hours 

scrolling because of you i didn't write

because of you, i was listening

to your tales of woe and if you paused

and i spoke for a moment twas only

to be negated or pointedly corrected.

just to keep the record straight and your son

is just like that. i am double teamed 

and asked to keep my tongue. i purposely

take on the role of bad guy 

to avoid the argument or is that you i mean 

we have 12 years now. it's april. it's spring.

have we always argued this way?

i find myself calling you f oh fuck you

i say to recover but no i can't

i think of you that way? what the actual fuck?

so i'm trying to piece out why

and it eludes me. i guess i need therapy.

how to figure out why and i can stop?

all through the month we met i think of you 

this way. it should cause a rise but you ignore

it all but that once and i told you i don't understand why

and it still comes out.  my instinct is to run.

i have  a room of my own i insisted it was

a condition. and now i'm seven days in 

to a ten day vacation and this is the first time

i really sat down to write. 

everything else i haven't done nags 

the butts on the porch

the drought starved yard

the flag of screen waving in the hot breeze.

death occupied the air next door for a week or two

that's one reason the windows stayed closed

i dunno, a possum, a kitten, a rat, a duckling 

but the neighbors let it rot

till it samk into the ground. shifting 

breezes brought it to us for a fortnight.

i dunno, an omen, a sign, a foretelling, a fact

of mortality? how long do i want to remain

in a carcass of what we were? it' s not that way

any longer. no need to grieve ir anymore.

let the bones lie. 

* 

i need to talk about my daughter

a victim of ptsd from the childhood rape/

lover from her uncle. i mean i just need to say

that it's ok that i'm working to give her half

if she's working to heal enough to deal

with her life choices. no matter the mental circumstances.

she has 4 kinds. be a mom honey. take care of them.

there are resouces. i'm tapped. sorry.

i'll be dead one day, then what will youdo?

cry in your bed all through march

while your children starve around you?

edit: just read february's entry.

i call you f because you betrayed me

and wouldn't talk about it afterwards.

that's why.

now what homie?