Filter Down

Under the covers with my baby on one side and my husband on the other

I think of my day and how I’m satisfied with most of it

Got a lot done, had a nap, and still had time to feed the kiddos

Even still,

I decide to wait till my eyes are heavy to write my poetry

Maybe it’s my thing, writing sleepy

If I’m tired the filter is tired too so I can just say it all

whatever it is I have to say that day.

-Saschia

A Bag Full of Freedom

I wake up chug a cup of water in my reusable Starbuck’s cup

gotta make sure I have enough milk made forĀ  the baby

sniff my pits and decide they smell fresh enough to skip a shower

I put on white leggings and look at my butt in the mirror only to notice

my panties show right through

So I pick a long short from my floral lined basket of folded shirts

I folded them when I was in the mood

I make myself sausage eggs and two pieces of french toast

this time for myself

not for the milk maker

I yell and scream about women’s rights then walk away

to fill another bottle of water

I pump for 20 minutes

put ointment on to prevent getting thrush

or from getting some infection I’d get from open wounds

and then gather Plath, Bukowski, Poe, Rimbaud, and [S.K.] Nicholas

into my bag

I grab my computer pretend to be happy

grab some pens and my keys and head out the door

I could take the Subie but I choose to take the Matrix

which is older and and smellier

so my husband who had the baby had a car seat

and I drive and I think about where I want to eat

and if I even want to eat again

 

-Saschia

 

Little purple person

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Tugged

The future is bound to my neck

I hold her close and nurture her till the time comes to let her go

The past is bound to my ankle

I don’t live there

I only use what I learned

My core was steady

but childbirth has weakened it

My bones light

buried beneath these layers of skin

My blood trickled on memories

On humans

On dreams

On goes the thumping of my heart

It thumps it thumps it thumps

And like a warrior of no tribe

I wear my stripes

my chin held high

Because the future needs

to be nurtured by a warrior.

-Saschia