Don’t bother me

I shoo them away in the morning—
to rebalance myself—
my three roommates.

I sit in an unclean apartment
pretend I live alone
I can go through the whole day without opening mouth
Listening to experimental music

I think of shootings in Paris

Last night I went into my daughter’s bedroom
hugged her
told her
“Even when things are tough, when you are frustrated and scared, you know that mommy is always here, I will wrap you like this with my arms and squeeze you tight.”
She nodded
and we fell asleep holding hands

I hear French president’s speech—he will close borders—on my laptop in my corner studio. At first I think no one can go into the county and I wonder if we can go to church on Sunday, our church in France. Then I understand he was talking about immigrants—

Those who have been walking—
readjusting expectation of how life should be—
not us.


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