Breath
The little boy presses up on me
his hot body and breath what
I want to feel in the room
with chairs stacked too close
together as she reads poetry
from the front platform,
her hair wild and red and
covering her eyes like she is
embarrassed for us to hear
her words and I wonder
if I should care too
but the hot breath of sweet
air from the little boy’s mouth
distracts me as it would
any mother so really I
never hear her anyway.