baby

∴ gridlock grip
radios rage
harsh horns

blameless
invisible hitchhiker
riding shotgun
with their baby’s spirochete-shaped toys

no hoarder of keepsakes
yet these toys remain
unbidden, in the car’s confines

navigation fogged
voices speaking foreign
lost in tongues unknown

a throng of commuters
thundering past
a stampede of haste

temperature spikes
engine protesting
overheating in defiance

tires wearing thin
tread fading fast
inch by weary inch

angry gestures fly
as vehicles creep by
their impatience palpable

brakes fail
a screeching wail
sqreeeeeeee
head-on collision

a breath. a release

a moment’s caress of this chaos
a minor delay

homeward bound. soon
i’ll be on my way ∴¹

1. 7th day of October, my poem “baby” was featured upon Kelly Sauvage Moyer’s new blog, Spiro Keats: A Creative Community for Those Living with Lyme Disease. My own journey with Lyme commenced in the year of 2018, whilst my daughter’s trials began in 2015, leading her to a severe form of POTS that left her bedridden for over three years. After enduring numerous rounds of antibiotics, medications, alternative treatments, and the counsel of countless specialists, her breakthrough came at last at the Mayo Clinic. Though no magic cure was found, mindfulness and steadfast activity have proven to be the golden key. ↩︎