barricades

I have begun to wear out
the knees of my jeans
to wear holes in my jeans
from kneeling bedside while scratching
her back as she falls asleep, amen.
I feel my pulse quicken after
news alert that says Roe is as good as gone
our future history and before,
I stood at this sink, thinking, I would like to be
your library. Live close enough to
share books for years
keep my books on your shelf
to be holders of one another’s knowledge,
trust and fine-less.
These dishes are never done
and tonight I cried at videos
wondering how we
survived in this much silence
How you lived to tell the truth of what
used to be yours

the rotary phone
a kept appointment
rewinding the tapes

I am furious that we’ve let it slip
through our fingers — it’s not
my exact fault — it’s
our collective fault — no,
no it’s definitely their fault
for not attending to —
but instead, shining their shoes
to see their own reflections.

What I wrote in that memoir wasn’t great.
It wasn’t new what happened to me.
This part is mine, though
belonging only to me, I clutch this to
my chest hard, no way you could take it
and later when I’m ready to share it
with my daughters, who will inevitably weep
knowing that it didn’t have to be like this, if not for
a few key wrong turns along the way, also
a million heads turning in opposite
directions, reaching for absolute
nothing power grabbing
killing time.