Sunday, February 08, 2009
is to not be working. Sunday is the day of work, of hotred reading, of notes in notebooks because the children are fathered. If the children were feathered they could fledge on sundays, denest, etc. Instead they are cabinbound even in this relative heat because their mother can not bear the outside--it is too far from amenities. Specifically a vomitbucket. And because on this particular sunday they are unfathered. Imagine. I use a movie as mother but a glass shatters upstairs and I must rouse from my fetuscorpse to vacuum. Nothing cd be less profound than protecting them from sharps, and I am less than profound. I drink my frenchroast even as it makes the cramps more intense. That is how strong I am.
Posted by kirsten at 7:50 AM