In Response To Being Asked, “What Do You Do?”
A new poem inspired by “To-Do List” by The Felice Brothers
I mosey down to the turquoise pool
To relieve my psoriasis. I massage
The pads of my dog’s paw till she falls
Asleep to the sound of recycled cans
Wrestling in the alley. I praise the parents
Who raised the person who planted almonds
Later to be picked by another person who
Then packed & shipped whole crates
Across the country for another person
To unpack & squeeze hard for every last
Morsel of milk, now on display in this
Poorly lit market & I come complaining
About parking. I whisper warms words
Into the cold ears of my beloved as she
Sleeps through the thunderstorm—toasty
Fiery, merry, etc. I collect names off
Gravestones for plays and pilots never
To be written. I burn box after box
Of granulated photos of penises my cousin
Found in her deceased brother’s closet.
I forget more things than I mention. I retrieve
A frisbee from beneath a parked off-road
Vehicle. I invent a hundred cures for ailments
I am afraid my beloved might one day
Find. I smell flowers, but also the inside
Of my arm, incense I don’t remember lighting
Some fragrance wafting through the crack
Below the door. I wear shorts in the winter.
A beanie in the sun. I forget more things
Than I mention. I arrive early for doctors
Appointments & overstay my welcome. I mow
The grass in dress pants, I write poems in work
Boots. I deny my feelings until I am covered
In a dozen blankets, crumbs of a bakers
Dozen. I watch the clouds pass in the sky.
I witness the clouds pass in my mind. I answer
Questions like “Who was the first second
Lady of the United States?” I know she was
Also the second First Lady. I stretch one
Muscle at a time, listen to my bones play
A symphony my ancestors composed years
Ago. At the first sight of blood, I collide
With a wall. At the first sight of a wall, I am
Covered in blood. I was not put on this planet
To explain myself, but since I am already
Here, I figure I might as well try.