Vicodin

Published Date: June 2nd, 2008
Category: Poetry

 

It is a word that

you think you will

never use as

a young mother

 

Those perfect mothers may say

how irresponsible

how undeserving she is to have that child

how utterly lacking in respect for all that is

sacred in motherhood

 

Yet as you lay in your bed

trying to let go of a migraine

that you have had now for

 

Ten Days

 

listening to your son talk himself to sleep you wonder

Why shouldn’t I be able to sleep?

Why must I endure this pain?

 

You reach into your bedside table

fingering your stash of pain relievers

hoarded since the birth of your now

3-year old son

And swallow one

 

just one little pill

 

You peacefully call down to your husband

“Going to bed”

knowing tonight you will sleep

tonight your pain will subside

 

Tonight your son can survive without your

motherly rubbing of his back

So you can finally have one glorious night of

drug-induced unconsciousness

(you used to have many of these)

Where your headache has finally

 

vanished.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 2nd, 2008 at 7:48 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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