all before 7:30am

It’s 7:02 am and my husband asks

if I want tea, our usual time

but what is usual these days, I

say and ask if we can have tea

this afternoon, I want to leave

early, give myself time, because

you never know and he nods,

always supportive, and just as

I slip on my boots because

the weather looks like rain—

sirens. Of course, what did

I think, good I’m dressed,

I think, still enough time

to make it, I think and

make my way across the

street, but something today

feels off. More off than

usual, and I’m trying to get

my head right waiting behind

the sealed door. When the

dog I am petting starts heaving

and vomiting all over the

floor. Green and yellow and

everyone is digging in

bags for anything to pick

it up and the owner of

the dog is crying and

her crying makes me cry

and the baby across the room is

laughing and the old lady

near the door who I’m

certain is a witch, because

she always does these flicky

swirly movements with her

hands and puffs up her

cheeks and chest and exhales

with sounds in a language

I don’t know and I imagine

or maybe hope she is getting

rid of all the negative energy

for all of us and today she is

smiling and laughing and

playing googley eyes with

the baby and just as we

get the all-clear to leave she

says, ze culam, it’s all of you

and holds up a drawing of

faces in green and blue and pink

and red, happy faces, hopeful

faces, that must be how she

sees us or maybe how she

sees the world, I think and then

the tears I tried to hide fall

down my face. And they

fall and keep falling,

like the rain I walk out

into, washing me clean,

clearing some space as

I make my way out

into the day.