He Thrives while I'm Exsanguinated
He thrives while I’m exsanguinated; buckets beneath, lines above.
Middle aged, too, he needs no needle hyjinks, suture speculation, or loose change.
Those verbal fangs suffice to draw blood.
I merely espoused the vicissitudes of the mass media; likewise, unplugged some such devices.
Chocolate drops, sour tea, also penny buns, need to replace screens, modems, intercoms.
Convergent media makes for untidy snacking.
Meanwhile, she kicks golden dust, that sonika-child; lives as a fresh, enlivened generation.
Wombtime ill-sufficed to integrate regular rules’ litany into her psyche.
Such individuals, empowered, make dust of elders’ diatribes.
We form family; our textured veracities get served up alongside each morning coffee.
Concurrently, extra hours of sleep escape us, young and middle-aged, alike.
Gasping, evermore, we recognize the confluence of domestic factors.
KJ Hannah Greenberg, a two time Pushcart Prize Nominee, one time Best of the Net Nominee, and an actual National Endowment for the Humanities Scholar, gave up all manners of academic hoopla to raise children. Currently, she flies the galaxy in search of gelatinous monsters and assistant bank managers.