Saturday Poetry: There Are Men Dancing On My Afghan and I Need Them to Stop

Three bottles times 31 days times 4 months

Times 5 diapers times 31 days times 4 months

Times 2 visits to the gynecologist times

1 hour of unassailed sleep per night times 31 days times 4 months

Times I can’t keep track of it all but I talked to the doctor

And I told her

I told her this that there were men dancing on my afghan

And they are sometimes leprechauns and sometimes not

But they sing to me and won’t shut up.

I don’t know how they got in here, I am not afraid of them

They don’t seem to mean harm to me or the baby

They are not large either, tiny really but they keep dancing

dancing on my bed and almost more than I need sleep

I need them to stop.