I Work From Home.

I work from home.
I spend the day in my pajamas.
It storms down on my newly laundered clothes
dangling on the line–
I don’t mind.
It’s so pretty–
So moody.

A bird flies in to my flat
and sits on my window sill.
I think it must be breeding
or hungry–
The two go hand in hand, I remind myself.

I snooze in the afternoon
and wake as the sun sets–

My chest pains a little,
tight and sharp–
I wonder if he’s hurting himself.

I wonder why we do that.

I try to trust it.

I try to trust it all.

I order in Reggio’s for dinner
and eat all of it– though I had planned to savor half for lunch.

I return to my work–
ABC on mute.

“Prayer is translation.
A man translates himself into a child
asking for all there is
in a language he has barely mastered.” – Leonard Cohen.

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