|  | 
	  
	   |  |  
	   | 
		  
		   | 
| blind spots 
 you were right to say
 the things you said
 or at least the way
 i heard them
 in my head
 with our boys
 in the next room
 sleeping stacked up
 on top of each other
 like neat, little dishes
 their breath and tiny fists
 curled up into saucers
 will they ever forgive us
 for being who we are?
 
 
 
 |  |  |  |  |  
	   |  |  |  |