It’s a fragment of a prose poem. I suppose I should call you bitches but I lack the bravado tonight, always. I’m having a hard time finding my way out of any poem or story, any essay I write. I do like the comma plus extension. I’ve never met a comma I didn’t like once I bothered reading a grammar book. Don’t get me wrong. Grammar whips me like a bitch.
I’ve got about nine lines going, but it’s hard to focus on poetry with domestic responsibilities ever present. There are other distractions as well: news, TV, movies, and tomorrow there will be work, etc.
My daughter plays babies.
She moves from one room to the next
talking to herself.