The Middle Man

Another Day

Forgetful, forgotten, till the last possible moment,

My mother tucks me into bed,

When I am supposed to be

In another place.

Nights spent reading

of secret gardens

and whimsical fairies,

With the mother of my mother,

In a weathering duplex,

With flowers on the steps.

But I am forgetful,

And I have forgotten,

And tonight will just be another night,

Not one of those nights.

Another day she says,

Sleep tight,

Goodnight,

It's alright you missed it,

This time.

And the next morning is like any other,

And the next day is like any other,

And the next night is like any other,

And then:

My mother gets a call and she's choking on tears;

Sobbing and screaming.

My shoes are on in seconds,

Laces untied,

Unraveling,

Like the present moment,

My head is a whirlwind of how, why, and when,

And across the lawn,

To the house next door,

A change of clothes and a blanket,

Under my arm,

A teddy bear in the crook of my elbow.

And then waiting at my neighbor's

Till the darkness covered the world,

And the pitch of the night fell over the world,

In piercing silence,

Except my brother's cries,

For his plush toy.

I hand him mine,

And the silence returns.

It's 2 or 3 in the morning when we cross back home,

And it's 2 or 3 in the morning when my mother sits us down,

It's 2 or 3 in the morning when I realize there will never be

Another

Day.