by Caitlin Thomson
The kids are home, core sore from all the pullups
they did on the monkey bars. One friend left the hospital,
only for another friend to enter. This morning we bought
five spatchcocked chickens for fifty percent off and considered
that to be our small victory of the day. When I tell this
to June, she asks who measures victories?
I describe a committee of people wearing lab coats
and butterfly wings, that determine such things.
Now that she’s eight, she knows better than to take me seriously,
but Emily at five stares at me in wide eyed wonder,
still young enough to not understand
the limitations of possible. Leaping from the top step,
like Superman only to tumble down,
a slinky with bones that could break.
It’s not her fault, we are raising her in
an age of wonder – not of possibilities,
but of question marks,
of uncertainty in every honest step.
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Caitlin Thomson is the co-founder of The Poetry Marathon. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies and literary journals including: The Penn Review, Radar Poetry, The Fiddlehead, and The Account. You can learn more about her writing at www.caitlinthomson.com.
Image: Loegunn Lai
ID: a blue, red, and pink playground.
Psaltery & Lyre 