The world has stopped spinning

It has before.

Cars keep moving outside my window 

while I wonder what it’s like to live in a world that doesn’t stop 

or go dark every now and again.

The first time my mom comes in,

she asks if it’s one of the dark days. 

I tell her yes through layers of blankets and shame 

one much heavier than the other.

These days have come so often that I’m beginning to think no others exist.

Two hours pass 

slow and thick as the air.

My mom comes in a second time 

and opens the blinds like she’s found 

a cure for this fire I am consumed by 

this thirst that will not go away 

It’s like God himself is talking to me when she speaks 

“Raise ya window, honey. It rained.”