2019

i still

Check trash folders I shouldn’t
find cohabitation a nuisance 
(even though it’s made me a better person)
roll my eyes when the man in the meditation 
podcast tells me to love myself
see insults where there are none
prefer life from the spectator’s stand
come across feelings to which
I can assign no words,
and struggle in that gap.

Sometimes i

Feel the sun’s rays on my thigh and
assign to this experience the word ‘pleasure’
find bubbles in my mouth an experience 
sit quietly with someone and enjoy having them there
notice I’m too quiet sometimes to be heard
(but think little of it)
notice wayward commas,
fold my sleeves up so I don’t look too much
like a clown at a funeral.

Now i

Comb my hair,
rub yesterday from
my face.