Upstairs Baby

For two hours now

The BABY upstairs has been crying

i look at my watch

And i can feel that i am biting my lip

SHE is clearly there too

Desperately trying to get the BABY to settle

Silently trying everything so that HE doesn’t wake up

Praying HE has drunk enough to sleep through it.

i glance at my mobile

If it happens again i will call the police

i know i say this a lot but i will

This time i will call

Then i hear it, the creak of HIS bed,

The feet searching out slippers

The sound of HIM heading down the hall

And then i hear HIM speak

my ceiling/HIS floor muffles HIS words

HE sounds different, SHE replies cautiously

After a moment HE speaks again, but not to HER

HE is singing, softly singing

BABY seems to hesitate, then cry,

Then hesitate, then slowly, easily, calmly

Settles

HE stops singing, there is a minute of silence

Then i hear HER speak

Then the sound of THEM heading down the hall

THEIR feet kicking off slippers

Then i hear it, the creak of THEIR bed.

One Night

Sleep slowly releases it’s grip

His eyes crack open

And he sees her

For a second

For one glorious second

He doesn’t remember her

Then it all comes back

The alcohol

The dancing

The alcohol

The grinding

The alcohol

The long wet kisses between drags on a cigarette

The fumbling with clothes

The fast, unsatisfying, fuck

The awkward moment where names are repeated

The call two months later

The arguments, the tears, the hatred, the making of an honest woman, the calls from parents, the job, the house, the mortgage, the credit card

The screaming

The birth

Thirty long years of depressing, monotonous, good health

He looks out the window at another gray day

Just another day.