We Hear it Too

Posted by in Motherhood Project, Poetry, Ten Minutes

somewhere
beneath the blare of sirens
the rumble of traffic
intermittent, but always
there

leaves rustle in a gentle wind
and that couple argues in the alleyway.

we wake up to the too-loud buzz of the fridge
water rattling old pipes
planes ripping through the atmosphere

we wake up, with resistance
our hands still dirty
clothes slung on the floor
the mattress sunken in

but the birds still chirp, hungrily
and we hear it,
as if for the first time

we hear it,
as if it weren’t always there.

then children,
bleary-eyed and hardly-rested
with questions to ask
and excuses to bare

alarms buzzing unrelentingly
and the heyday of our lives

blue collar
black skin
paycheck to paycheck
the hustle of existence

begins.

-KH

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