A Poem for Mothers During Naptime
When the brain’s so full it’s empty
the clarity comes.
Thoughts tumbling like marbles from
landing on the sticky kitchen floor
and rolling under the table.
You crouch to save them
and notice the cracker crumbs
and dried puddles of watermelon
and then you consider cleaning the floor
but, no, it will take too long
and there’s too many
dishes in the sink.
So you might as well
fold that load of still damp towels
and maybe even take a quick nap
before the kid wakes up.
But the bed’s made and you don’t want to mess it
so you make a quick cup of coffee instead
and sort through the pile of magazines accumulating on top of the toilet,
tossing the old ones in the recycle bin, which is so full you need to empty it in the can outside.
And when you return to the kitchen and sit down with pen and paper and coffee
to write down that wisdom that struck you just minutes ago,
the dryer buzzes and you hear the short footsteps coming from down the hall.
It’s all so clear.