for three hours
the world inside this house
is still—
one child, sprawled in a flowered dress
like petals strewn about the bed;
the other, nursing in thin air,
puffing herself awake,
then drifting again;
while i read, then throw aside,
then read again:
administration
plan
attack
Iran
regimechange
nuclear
option.

Down comes the bouquet, disheveled yet insistent:
I've promised her gum.


(Yes, that actually was my afternoon. Here’s the article.)