Wakeful nights strung together
with cups of coffee like little lights
glinting off the knife’s edge of sleep,
of sanity. The crushing urgency of
work email,
phones abuzz,
dirty dishes in the sink,
knowing it is already 8:30
and I have to be up by 5,
in the face of Mama, cutting
their little voices on the dark
short distance down a flight
of stairs or hallway for one more
story or song or hug or kiss goodnight.
The sweetness of it,
so constant it’s immutable,
so sharp I know better
than to trust it will stay
on my tongue, or keep sticking
to every surface I wipe down.
–
Abigail Michelini teaches creative writing, literature, and composition at Northampton Community College. Her work can be found in journals such as Topic Journal, Anthology of Appalachian Writers, Speckled Trout Review, and The Main Street Rag. She is Poetry Editor of Oyster River Pages.