the kids
are about to
leave and
all three of
us vibrate
with anxiety
as the bubble
the last week
and a half
sheltering
us from the
real world
quivers as
the thin
semipermeable
membrane is
at the verge
of

popping

they return
to school and
the stress of
rubberbanding
back to reality
i lose my
focal point
barely keeping
me from the
next breakdown
as the world
goes quiet for
a fresh eternity

jittery
false smiles
each tick
of the clock
sounds like
a gunshot
as we flinch
in a frozen
portal peering
into individual
hells shared
like static
in painful
sparks that
blister in
relentless
little traumas

little pockets
of anxiety
bubblewrap in
the hands of a
neglectful god