November (early)

EMERSON DOESN’T LIKE TO GO TO BED

No, wait, don’t leave yet
She grabs my arm, holds it tight.
Pull away, empty.

But you have to sleep
What a lame statement.

JOANNA HAS LEARNED A BAD WORD

It begins with F,
ends in ing. I said it, she heard.
My bad, my real bad.
(Adjective, not noun.)

WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?

They are still so small.
I chase them and scare them up,
squeeze for all I’m worth.

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