Teeth

The first few days after I turn thirty-five
I cannot will myself to start the year
Or even a day
I lay wrapped in too many blankets
Lights off and blinds closed
Heat blaring so I sweat through my clothes
And stick to my satin pillowcases
But I do not have the flu

I have altitude sickness from falling from
Such great and
Imaginary heights

I have the reckoning

I have the knowledge of my parent’s cancer
Both
The waiting for my youngest brother’s arrest
His face exactly mine
More male
And the wondering of which of my own three kids will carry these three family curses
Cancer
Anxiety
Depression

I have the realization that depression waves feathery fingers and wafts through closed windows

Pulls apart the blinds regardless

I have the heaviness of not having a partner who hands me a pen and a notebook and my keys and tells me to take a day and drive and write it out
And the heaviness…