Mommy Tax


When I shut the minivan door on my feet

and the baby pulls my hair

and my husband’s shoes are still missing,

it hits me.


I remember when the world lay at my feet,

and wasn’t trying to crush them.

When the baby was the only one that cried,

and men begged my parents 

to be the one whose shoes were at the door.


It hits me

when the alarm goes off at six a.m

and I jump out of bed to head to work

before I realize the alarm is just a signal

to send the children to school.


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