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Broke Wife, Big City
Bad
Poetry By A Tired Mom
By Aprill Brandon
I have two kids
Two beautiful unique souls
Each with a unique illness
Germs, his and hers
Simultaneous sickness
But different miseries
Because they couldn’t even
Extend the courtesy
Of having the same goddamn disease
How does that even happen?
What did I do wrong?
Am I being punished?
Is it revenge for when I was bragging
About their immune systems being so strong?
Hand, foot and mouth
Fever, cough, sore throat
Luckily, sharing is caring
Which is why every surface of my house
Has been smeared with snot
There is so much gross
Just
So much of
The gross
Noses dripping
Phlegm flying
Rashes rashing
Or whatever the hell they do
Oh, is this awful to read?
A thousand apologies
But imagine a tiny clone of your husband
Sneezing directly into your face
Speaking of husbands
He’s busy, off working
Meanwhile, I’m drowning in used tissues
Trying to build a moat
By drinking enough Merlot that I practically float
It’s not working
There’s so many leaks
That’s what we call a double entendre
Or something like that
Something something insert funny line here
And here
And here
I’m so tired, you guys.
What rhymes with “someone, dear god, help me”?
Is poetry still suppose to rhyme?
Omg, when’s the last time I actually read a poem
Not composed by Dr. Seuss?
Twin rivers flowing in tandem
Bearing colorful waves of a neverending pour
Tylenol
Ibuprofen
Here to save us all
We’ve watched Tangled three times
Just today alone
Take your screen time limits
And shove them
We’re in survival mode
But don’t you worry about us
They’ll end up being just fine
Sickness doesn’t last forever
And at least I still have (cough) my health
Oh crap, (sniffle) what the hell was that?
Dammit.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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