Poison Ivy

Doom scrolling

My newborn flashes 

Before my eyes. 

The now sixteen months old 

Not so tender, not so fragile.

Doom scrolling

A new mother flashes 

Before my eyes. 

The now sixteen months old

Drowning deeper into the pit

Just not devoured. 

(An identity getting shaped; an identity getting lost. A life in the making; a life getting left behind.)

Doom scrolling 

Sleep envelopes us both

Lying side by side 

Entwined 

Poison ivy, are we?

Imprinting each other?

Encroaching, clashing 

Crushed 

Falling apart

Falling in 

Sometimes cold and bare 

Sometimes warm and cuddled

On bleak days, how to pronounce? 

Above ground, repeating and memorising 

On sunny days, still learning

Brittle notes of resentment 

Washing away my exasperation 

Even tears from a leaky faucet

Held mine!