I spray snow
at my 9-year-old son.
I love him.
He is trying to find himself.
The clouds bring the snow
So we can play
Clouds and Clowns
The volume of my birthday is wrenching.
It’s that … my daughter and I have the same birthday
… it’s a birthday … show …. when my birthday happens
it happens it’s also her birthday with her friends the French.
She’s just a young lady of 11
The clouds are scary.
They remind me of clowns.
I asked her could please not have clowns and she said, OK daddy
I just got back from the hospital.
I was in the psychiatric ward.
Marc Isaac Potter (we/they/them) … is a differently-abled writer living in the SF Bay Area. Marc’s interests include blogging by email and Zen. They have been published in Fiery Scribe Review, Feral A Journal of Poetry and Art, Poetic Sun Poetry, and Provenance Journal. Twitter is @marcisaacpotter.