permission

I can feel my shoulders relaxing
the blades behind me, my wings
settling down into
their rightful place.

The broken spring in my couch
pokes up under the skin
of the upholstery, makes me hover
so I forget where I am
and what trapped means.

I am calling for lit candles,
stirring the batter in the bowl,
arranging shelf things,
lugging the a/c unit back to its hole.

I am calling in
release in the face of uncertainty,
rubbing of hands on my face,
inhale and intake of breath.

I am calling from
chalkboard wall, smudged,
cardboard cat cave,
car alarm kitchen window.

The furniture of this room is me,
the man already asleep in our bed,
the children stacked in their bunks,
the cats on soft cushions.

For a moment, blameless peace.

xo.