Every Single Day Is Tomorrow

I was foolish, wearing jewelry
That was sentimental

In a city of wind tunnels
Thinking I had plenty of time

To get to the hospital
That my late twenties—and late thirties—

Wouldn’t be a series of small ego deaths
That I could make it to the subway

After staying up all night with the baby
Watching both Miss Congenialty movies

Without stumbling over my own feet
Bashing my knee—which still hurts

Even now as I fold onto the tufted rug
To give you one last kiss goodnight