To-do List Found in a Pocket
All I meant to do
is washed out of its places,
made back from ink to water,
firm intent forgot
for blank and wrinkled space
where anything might be writ.
Holding place tumbled dry
in its own holding place,
fine lines creasing
the face of the card on top—
to do: observe this slanted
river wrought in paper,
shadowed tributaries
that end at the page’s end
or seem to, as a list
seems to end at the edges
of what it’s written on.
Along the wash-fuzzed limits,
at water-rounded corners,
is left the sign of the blue
I wrote what won’t be done in.
Or some of it won’t be.
One list is only one
holding place among
many for obligation,
or hope, or good intentions,
aid to mental order
almost still a square,
the corners folding inward
toward where the words were,
toward all I thought I had
to do. Watch this space.
Consider the ocean. Done.
Paper Tape
Soft enough
to tear at the spot
you want, and strong
enough to stop
some separations
if not all:
thin strip stuck
with gentle gum
sets list to wall,
addendum to list,
box flap to box flap,
packing to press,
protesting only
when it’s done,
the sound of stick
unsticking from
itself, then one
and one their own
again. One
of the pair, sometimes,
will keep the tab
of empty tape,
recollect
the hint of when
it fastened to
another, collect
fuzz or dust,
the other end still
pressed close, saying
this was meant,
was fixed, someone
wanted enough
to hold it up,
to stick it down,
to splint it with
another bit:
torn to torn,
half to half,
note to wall
to eye to self.
Cup
Unfull a promise
or dry lack,
the shape of luck
you have or miss.
Made to love
a human curve:
swilled from, smiled
into, upheld
with ease, to wake
and exit thirst.
Without, pressed,
two hands or, less,
one will make
the first of it.
Vase
Whether a mouth
wide or piping
thin, of glass
or clay, a curve
from neck to foot
enveloping,
at present, air,
the premise that
outside the house
something will bloom
and I’ll remember
that it’s blooming,
clip not every
stem, but some,
open the tap,
fill the space,
and fill the wider
space of the air
above it: arrange
and rearrange
till blossoms stand
and branches stand
proximate
to how they lived,
stems drinking water,
leaves drinking sun.
The vase, as the earth
roots still delve into,
holds close or loose
what it was made to.
***
Author photograph by Allie Mullin
