Something Wild Between the Dancing and Dreaming
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The glow from the tv illuminated ten faces in shadowy light.
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A single droplet in an ocean of intakes and exhales.
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Hand burger breast
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Then, after it all, I was handed her. A baby girl. This tiny, purple, squashed, perfect little alien.
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Perhaps during those early morning stints at the feeding mill I might manage to start churning out words as well as milk.
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I could see the memory written all over his face. The last time I had been here. Parol. I shudder. Glad that meeting hadn’t gone according to plan.
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The room smells. It’s subtle, not strong or overpowering and not exactly unpleasant but there enough for it to be distracting.
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I grit my teeth. Try to look away. Try to focus on something else. Remind myself that I’m not supposed to be here. Remind myself how angry she’ll be if I intervene.
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Absently I reach for my pocket, toying with the letter there that’s no doubt beyond salvation, as wet as I got trying to change the tire.