The day I wear purple flannel pajamas past noon
multiple people knock on my door needing to speak with me.
Ignore the stretch of the juvenile sock monkey print over my round, six months and counting belly
and how I’d greeted Medusa in the mirror that morning with mascara smudged eyes.
It would be nice if anyone stopped by on the many days that I comb my hair and change my clothes,
but if that’s what it takes to get people to come visit
I may have to try this again tomorrow.