I don’t know
any more
than an infant…
I too, cry
through carefully-
constructed words
so that I can be held
by the attention
of others
and intellectually
coddled and cuddled
with constructive
criticism or better yet
the suckle of warm
milky praise
just because I don’t
wear diapers
or suck my thumb
doesn’t mean I am
all that evolved
or that the Rubik’s cube
of my dilemma
has been absorbed
and absolved
in fact I am still
trying to lose
my baby fat
and am still
getting weaned
off my teens
and have to stop
teething on the midlife
midwife of midnight
loneliness
who sings me lullabies
getting me ready
for her very last
goodnight kiss