My parents, middle-aged,
heavy from cheap food and worry,
dutifully acting out the ritual
they choreographed on their wedding night,
careful not to wake the baby
asleep in the corner of their tiny bedroom.
Then I understand who I am;
I was programmed from before birth to be
predictable, to wear responsibility
and shame like my sister’s hand-me-downs.
In motion, I rarely break a sweat.
When I lie down in love, I sleep with my guilt.
And when I wake with the dawn, my day has already been lived.
Author Bio:
The author lives in Salt Lake City and is the mother of three daughters. A psychic once described her as "oozing feminine energy." She has many interests. including reading literature, playing volleyball and gardening. She always says that she has no time and yet she manages to watch a number of creatively bankrupt television shows.