“There is no comfort in the geologic record.”

We are the whimsy of G♥d’s blink.

I may feel the warmth and roundness of my children’s bodies.
I may feel my husband’s tongue deep inside me and all around me.
I may feel the sunset in the singing of my blood.

I cannot know when I will die, or when my children shall.
I can love every day.
I can make mistakes over and over and over again.
I can complain,
and I do.

The clock ticks
marking what?

Time,

who is counting the seconds,
who can count them?

When will I know I’ve arrived?

Is there anything more than my attempts at connection?
I’m listening.
I’m here.

I’m comforted by his touch
by the sunset
by the taste of peaches
by the roses
bubble baths
my cat’s rough tongue

and my fountain pen.