There are days when I am magic,
an adventure in motion,
songs about everything
make him laugh.
Today was not
one of those days.
Today I was an ape mother,
only less agile.
It was a day of orifices
into which I hunted and picked and wiped
with beady eyes.
It was a day of administering,
of biological imperative,
of basic needs,
an assembly line
kind of affection.
Now he sleeps,
and even though
I missed the big
while I fussed the small,
I have no time for regret,
for I am too busy planning tomorrow.
You will recognize us
by the two-step we prance
in the aisles of the grocery store
and the defiant sound
of enormous nonsense
and glee.