Roadkill Lullaby

I don't want to die in this Uber

I haven’t seen my little son in three weeks

I slept like shit in four or five of the most beautiful cities in Europe

I lost track

No sleep will do that to a person

I miss being woken up by the baby monitor, his little snuffles and shifts

His soft warm body bouncing into mine, before bed, in the morning, after school, for snuggles

mummy mummy mummy lemme show you something

He spells his name now, carefully shaping the letters 

What’s your favorite color, buddy? He crinkles his almond-shaped eyes at me, eyes that are blue or green or gold or brown. 

Rainbow! 

Of course

I miss his little boy smell and the way he scrunches up his face that means pretty pretty puhhhhleeeeeaasseee. 

I see him staring thoughtfully and I know he still see glimpses through the veil I pulled him through, right from the stars.

I tell him that: Mummy searched the earth and the seas and the deserts and the mountains, and I couldn’t find you. And then I looked up and saw Orion, and I went to the stars and asked you to be my son.

Orion. Of the stars.

He lives in the magic, Fae and sprites and if there’s a heaven, I bet my boy can peek into it, too

The universe keeps some secrets for children, if only for a little while

And now, barreling back to my sister’s, toward my little son

All I can think is, fuck, I'm going to end up underneath a truck on the fucking Boston turnpike (or wherever the fuck we are)

Some fucking guy will scrape my guts off the tarmac. Just another rush hour tragedy.

And I’ll never get to smell his smell again.

But I hope the universe keeps some magic for him 

While I wait for him in the stars

And I hope his favorite color is always: 

Rainbow!