When I come home,
the house sounds like snow fall.
Lacy and the twins
are draped loosely over the couch.
Martin's standing in the doorway to Mama's room,
a lost puppy.
He looks to me for truths I have not yet learned.
Mama's small frame is huddled
in the corner of her room,
her shoulders hitching up and down.
What does a child know
of comforting gods or saints,
of the shuddering darkness, all around?
Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 10:58 AM UTC
When I come home,
the house sounds like snow fall.
Lacy and the twins
are draped loosely over the couch.
Martin's standing in the doorway to Mama's room,
a lost puppy.
He looks to me for truths I have not yet learned.
Mama's small frame is huddled
in the corner of her room,
her shoulders hitching up and down.
What does a child know
of comforting gods or saints,
of the shuddering darkness, all around?
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