Washing Our Hands of It
by Janan Young
Daniel, God is my judge,
jumped up from sleep
his head cracking open,
wiped his nose and eyes
on the sheet. What a virus
does inside the body,
parasitic microbes
gaining entry in the cells,
bombs in Kosovo harming
innocent children.
I huddle on the floor
beside him dosing one
Adult Tylenol 2 grape-flavored
children’s. 485 grams for 75
pounds. Daniel: visualize
azura and warm air blowing
white clouds slowly in an endless
loop, clear water flowing
smoothly over large granite
stones, breath evening
into regular sighs.
Previously published on about.com Poetry, Guides Bob Holman and Margery Snyder