Vernix & The Keeper of Sleep | Poetry
Mandy Henderly
VERNIX
For Lucy
The pajamas I was wearing
the night you were born
are folded and put away-
lilac with a scallop edge
around the breasts.
That night, bent over
the bed breathing, deep
breathing.
Wake up, honey, call
the babysitter. It’s
time to go.
The night your brother
was born I was wearing
a dress-
knee length with a wrap
around the waist.
That night, standing against
a wall swaying, hips
swaying.
Honey, come back home. It’s
time to go.
Both times, I discarded
what I was wearing,
balled up on the hospital floor.
Both times, I wept
when my baby was safely
placed on my chest.
Both times, my baby
covered in vernix,
I refused to let
you be bathed.
Why would I rush your
newness away?
Let it soak in,
Let it soak in.
THE KEEPER OF SLEEP
I am the keeper of sleep-
the right combination of lavender
and vetiver to help her drift off
and the boring story he likes
to listen to before closing
his eyes.
I know that we should start her
bath at 6:30 as opposed to 6:20.
I am familiar with the soft glow
of a nightlight and hum of white noise.
I’m acquainted with pajamas and
bedtime kisses and sleepy sighs.
I was once the keeper
of Whitman and Ginsburg,
of Olds and Bishop,
of Alexie and Keats.
But now, I hold the keys
to bedtimes and schedules
and Christmas lists.
I am the keeper of snacks
and birthday cards
and due library books.
I remember to order more toilet paper
and paper towels
and when the dog will need more food.
I am the keeper of packing his backpack
and drying his pajamas
and laying out her favorite sweatshirt.
And- ah, yes-
I am the keeper of sleep.
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