Sangria

PJR Perseverates

She fell hard, and Bean was there
While she slipped, confidently, careening
To the floor, doorstop in mouth, and
Then bleeding while I cleaned up the
Mess and she cried not knowing why
Or what happens next. The blood was
Jarring, honestly, while Ian cleaned it
To the best of his ability, and helped
Me understand the importance of
Children and understanding. Had I
Seen her wobble, or intentions, would
Anything have been the down to her
Tumble. It’s not mad, but angry, and
Somewhat sad, and terror. I remember
Pulling her close, and trapping any
Security left in the bigger one to her
Core. I swear I’d had one eye on
Her the whole time.

Why do they say sweat beads? It tears
Through every hole you didn’t know
Was there, like tears. I stuttered lots
Knowing the lack of expectations I was
Already failing to defend. She caught
Her cry in her throat, and, confused,
Pressed her tiny tongue to the ragged
Shingles of her mouth, and then began
To cry again. There was no mortal wound
No sin, no unretractable thing left once
The multiple flows were dammed.
That chair, the legs, and back, still crash
My complacency. And I’ll be damned,
I’ll be the down regardless, Always, but
for you, from now ‘til death, I’ll be the cover
too.