The Kalopsian Wave

I want to be as much “you” as I can be

when I speak to you

I put emphasis on all the

wrong words

I gather up my bubbles when I blow them from my wand

and combine them into some ephemeral reflection.

Too many together, it bursts

and once again I’ve scattered

the furniture all over the house. Same parts, a reinvention 

what new creative ways can I arrange my chairs

without knocking my elbows on my walls, 

cursing to myself-

I need more space!

I stomp to the fridge, choleric

scrawling on the grocery list

for my husband to buy me a big hammer.

I will finally do something about these close quarters.

The walls, now, ephemeral.

Just like my daughters baby pictures, lost in a flood.

They built their sandcastles

and abandoned them like it is not their Kingdom to protect

when I call them for lunch and sunscreen.

They do not mourn as I do when the ocean crumbles their strongholds.

They do not know the vigil I hold in my heart 

for the things that change

and, oh, how I want them to stay so badly

just for a little bit longer

perhaps I shall put my hammer down.

or, 

build for my children

something that lasts.