pollinated with the remains
of today,
and wishing they had picked them up.
Smoothing their blankets,
casting a hand over their warm foreheads.
Sticky sweet reprimand
for skipping their baths.
Brushing back her clouds of hair,
tucking in his trailing arm,
laying a kiss on their moon-bright skin.
Matching their breath one by one,
folding into mine,
pools on the pillows.
Their breath
holding more consequence
then my own.
It’s a school night.
It’s a work day.
And the air
is full of things I was supposed to do.
There is no exhaustion greater
than carrying the weight of their care.
But there is no life,
without breath.
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