We pretend it doesn't

But it happens

Sometimes you lie them down and they don't wake up

(tiny tiny baby, broken mama, retching grief)

All we have is tonight

And tonight not even guaranteed

This is all I've got.


So we stay up 'til Midnight

Eat potstickers in the basement, Try!

Still . . . Not enough pictures, not enough laughs

To make handles for holding on.

Deep anguished screams inside that I can't let out.

For fear (or maybe certainty)

They would rip the onion paper to pieces.