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the circumstances of my birth, what
about my deeper dishonesty?
How much truth do I want to tell him?
MY STOMACH STIRS
And I’m pretty sure it has nothing
to do with the thought of lies.
Hope I’m not coming down with
Grandfather’s bug. Wonder if it’s cat
flu or dog flu, or some other
new, improved, unidentified strain.
He’s actually a little better today,
and seeing as how he’s a member
of one of those “high-risk populations,”
I guess that’s a really good thing.
I wander down the hall to check
on him, but he’s in the bathroom.
God! The smell coming from
his bedroom is going to make me …
Quick. Run to the other bathroom,
reach the toilet just in time for
my stomach to jet a horrid stream
of oatmeal and yogurt. Breakfast.
I HEAVE
And heave,
sweat breaking
out on my forehead.
Gut clenching
and letting go.
Clenching. Great.
Who will take care
