Too exhausted to care
whether the sensitive child is traumatized
by my insistence that she complete the
assignment as required.
Too exhausted to laugh
at the absurdity of end of term panic
after six weeks of poor attendance and disorganization.
Too exhausted to do more
than get through the day myself,
with nothing left for under-achievers who think
I should go over and above for them.
Too exhausted today to care
more about student success they they do.
There’s always tomorrow.
The world is flocked white
and I stretch my toes searching for your lingering warmth.
Absent.
It’s slow on the road today,
highway’s slick and I wish I could take a sick day.
Absent.
The world is flocked white
like it’s powdered me on the trees; I’m empty.
Absent.
The world is flocked white
I want to abrogate responsibility and hibernate.
Absent.
Sickness weighs heavy
body aches as if it is encased in cement
limbs do not want to move,
throat scratches,
eyes droop,
incision throbs,
skin shivers.
Every part of me weighed down
and longing to fall into sleep.
.
.
.
I’m definitely coming down with something! Yesterday I was falling asleep at 8 p.m. Tonight it wasn’t even 6 p.m. Good night!
What a day, so much fun
but energy reserves are done
I drag myself into the house
wrap my arms around my spouse
Write you a poem, and then I’m gone
heading to bed with a jaw cracking yawn.
I rolled into the room
delighted with engagement,
conversation,
company.
I rolled out of the room
on a high.
I rolled into the house
fell into my bed
and took fifteen hours
to recover from
intellectual curiosity.
.
.
Had my first big outing since I’ve been laid up with my broken ankle. I was out 6 hours for medical appointment, grad school workshop, and transportation. It was wonderful to talk to folks more erudite than my dogs, but apparently it was exhausting! The ankle wasn’t thrilled, either. I won’t be doing it again for a few weeks!
Like tepid water
we’re floating in
the faintest current,
flowing toward
a trickling drain
that empties
us into hollow
cavities
in evening.
I need new pyjamas.
The effort of hunting through stores
hurts my head.
I have fabric, thread, pattern
and machines.
It’d only take an hour to make,
But just taking
the serger out of the box
seems too great a challenge.
I think finishing my last novel
was more exhausting than
it seemed.
Shawn L. Bird 