Bicarbonate soda waking

morning is weighted with the pain of the night
sleeping on my back cos rib joints want to let go the struggle
they want to unknuckle their plight
I don't know what to say to them
hang in there until the anti-depressants get to you
don't give up
hope is a beautiful thing

but they haven't let me have enough sleep cycles
I drag the words
the day doesn't look much good to me either
like a pregnant mother
ready to drop
with three under five
being the good mother
home alone

like the caustic after taste of bicarbonate soda
morning nausea balances night time munchies
phone off the hook
I'm home today
slow speed thoughts
slow motion breathing
small flushes of incontinence

rain falls like there is no after
it hits the ground like prophecies
luminescent green of non-natives in southern light
at the edge of rain-forested rivulet
a wallaby eyes me like I'm a dangerous dog
my marsupial self flees
cracking undergrowth with its tail
the timid potoroos are tamer
a cat undressed one under my desk
its feet dropped like a child's socks and shoes
its guts in a pile unused
my sorrow counts for nothing
I can't justify my need
and God has only one prayer.

© Liz Winfield