Truly, there were good intentions. I posted here last on October 8. I suppose when I thought my kitten was dying I figured paying attention to her trumped writing an essay a day. Well. That day turned into a few weeks and here I am back in the orange chair at bedtime, piecing together strange ideas. Tonight they become a poem.
**
You Have Sacrificed Function for Fashion Yet Again Only
To fail
To flinch
To write the names of everyone you’ve
ever known along the inside of your forearms
To whistle a tune you make up as
you go
To curl bare toes inside shoes
too small
To hand off the pen when you’ve
run out of room
To mention celebrity suicide out
loud and regret it instantly
To cough
To suffer through campaign ads
To speak too softly amid the
crowd
To slide the loose ring in
circles around your finger
To let the ink smear in the
creases of your knees
To stand here wondering about
religious sects
To sigh
To kneel
To rest a minute among coats in
the master bedroom
To return down a long hallway
To saunter
To smile
To slip quietly out the door
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