She wanted a little room for thinking,
but she saw diapers steaming on the line,
A doll slumped behind  the door.

So she lugged a chair behind the garage,
to sit out the childrens naps.

Sometimes there were things to watch-
The pinched armor of a vanished cricket,
A floating maple leaf. Other days
She stared until she was assured
when she closed her eyes
she’d see only her own vivid blood.

She had an hour, at best, before  Liza appeared
pouting at the top of the stairs
And just what was Mother doing
out back with the field mice? Why
building a palace. Later
that night when Thomas  rolled over
and lurched into her, she would open her eyes
and think of the place  that was  hers,
for an hour – where
she was nothing,
pure nothing, in the middle of the day.

Rita Dove.

P.S:  I’m soooo in love with the way that sleeping womans nets are filtering the light. Oh to see life through a net curtain hey?

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