Fairy Tales for Dinner

By Michelle Windsor
@michellevwindsor

I am already full
when he interrupts me.

I have over-consumed
again. Binged 

on the latest
horror stories until

my stomach hurts
and my heart aches.

What happened, mama?
he asks, and offers me

crumbs of concern,
crusts of empathy.

I am not hungry.

I am jealous
of his innocence

of his freedom
of not knowing

of the lightness
of his heart and mind.

I pull him into my lap.
Press my face 

into what is left
of the baby

fat on his cheek.
Feed him something 

that is more fiction
than truth. Satisfied,

he escapes
into a tent made of blankets

and imagination. I swallow
the burning bile and wonder

how much longer he will devour
the fairy tales I serve him.

---

Guest poetry written by Michelle Windsor. A full-time thinker and part-time writer, Michelle writes poems because essays don't fit on a shower wall. She is the creator of Part-Time Poets and chief noticer at The Noticing. You can find her on Substack and Instagram.

Photo by Jennifer Floyd.