Sick baby words.

by ericandlora

i started laughing this morning


i think that’s how delirious i am
lying in a bed full of deliciously warm blankets,
nuzzled up against a ferociously hot toddler,
whose hair looks like Brad Pitt from the late nineties,
whose nose is red like cherry tomatoes dying in the yard,
and whose sweet little hands search my face for kisses and comfort.

when I prayed to God for humility

to be emptied of myself,
to learn selflessness, generosity, kindness, gentleness and patience,
this was not my vision.

socks on
socks off
blanket stuck
wrap me up, tighter,
different blanket




no! bear

orange juice. orange juice too spicy

rock you
hold you, hold you, mama bed
mommy sleep
steamer para.

dada hold you

pants on
pants off
shirt hurt
new shirt

eye hurt

more blankets
less blankets.

and in the womb, tucked away and stretching out,
a smaller baby
doing exemplary gymnastics, at 2 and 4 and 6 am.

And, so I find, at the end of myself, there is laughter of the delirious kind.
To perfect all selfishness
and drive me to prayer.

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