the older i get the more i need to practice

conversation     conflict     containment

 

when cooking i set out the spices before i

start     catalogue the measuring cups     trace

 

the characters in the recipes     in the mirror

i chant your name     chant my own in the

 

shower     for a month and a half i forget

what cinder blocks are called     i forget

 

to collect the mail     the mailbox tilts

at obscene angles     obscures itself with

 

snow     its red flag lolling     letters leaking

i know this medicine won't let me be

 

hungry so i practice hunger too     i time

myself     it’s three o’clock     it’s time for

 

something     three unleashes four and five

releases me to the murk of dusk     before i

 

go to sleep i line up my pills so

in the morning i’ll remember