“What if you could/ say only one thing for the rest of your life…” ~ Adriana Cloud
What else do you need, you texted
from the convenience store. I asked
for one pen but you bought a pack
of 10 + bonus— blue ink carriages
in their filmy cellophane wrapper
with a double heart. And oh, maybe
a few plastic hangers; but you bought
what you said was the minimum
of 16; and as afterthought, an extra
pack of coffee pods even when I’d counted
what I had and knew there should be enough.
Because I was raised to save every leftover
bit of string, taught to eat the bitter
greens and hold something back
for that proverbial rainy day, I always
want to smooth and re-fold every square
of glossy paper loosened from a gift,
parcel out every part of the butchered
animal so that it lasts and lasts and lasts
until the gristly end. I thought
this was the only way to care for:
like taking one step forward and two
steps back will make sure there’s always
enough to go around. Like after all
these years I haven’t learned the difference
between slowness and patience. Like speaking
warnings instead of carefully going over
the sums makes a better armor for the heart.