Thank You, Ms. Roe

by Angela Kubinec

Five children, my own clan

of monkeys I could have urged

to thrive in the pinkish grey light

of this studio apartment, its windows facing a wall

of cement block


We would be hidden, as hidden as ever

except for our ventures

into the basement laundry

where I would perch

them on the counter and teach

them to match a multitude of socks


Our bath towels on coat hangers

motionless above the radiator

making a geography lesson

I would name "Flags of the World"

stained animal

shaped pillows grieving on the floor

unable to survive

the demands of so many asses and dozing



I would call for magic no-cost

purchase and delivery

of every item for the home

learn to cook

wipe shit without nausea

or resentment

Sleep like a pile of puppies in a giant bed

no one resistant or restless

somehow able

to touch each one of them at the same time

snoring and squabbles

over covers a kind of

redemptive nocturne


Each day an indulgent

but completely necessary cloud

of Xanax

driving peaceful rituals of bathing and hair combing

slowly gleeful

games of Yahtzee, Chutes and Ladders

Play-Doh for everyone

all needs

for selfish apologies or inadequate


removed at  last