Mother Summer
by Carie Novikoff

I try not to die in the summer
burning caffeinated holes in my stomach
buried beneath bowls
in the sink caked on cheese
cereal and tomato

bruised by multitasking
speeding through one moment
to myself I rub
exfoliant in my eye and
run into walls
trying to keep these little people
creatures from breaking

I try not to lose myself in sand
dripping wet sock, underwear, shorts
and swimsuit pits

It is hard to hold that slippery hand
of me
needing to get
just
one
word
on
paper
amidst sippy-cup
macaroni cheese stick
demands

I can’t wipe the cherry juice
chocolate fingers off
standing disoriented in the crowd
at Wal Mart I search, scan, and wonder
where I have gone