Rachel Hawkins-Crockford

Frida

 

inside the darkened room

new life gently presses her nose against my hip

 

the morning’s silence broken by her soft snores

and the tap-tappity-tap of the computer keys

as I try to live my own life

 

I have spent too many hours like this

light peeping in at me through the curtains

as I wait

 

for men

babies

children

and now a dog

to wake and set me free

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