Carrying

When I think about
the loneliness we carry in our arms,
that soft body as if without bones,
there will always be 

someone reminding me 
it's time to pull the trash 
bins to the curb or check
the bread in the bin for mold,

or that it is past midnight
and morning is only a few
hours away. In our hearts,
we want to tend 

every hurt like it is
our own child, not because we
birthed them, but because we don't know
how long before we all turn to stone.