Gone & lost important papers
records of importance
which meant i had-ta shuffle through papers
rifle through every pocket of every bag
go on & toss out old receipts
& scripts from the grave.
How is it I always need an apology.
Can’t complete z before x or y,
can’t make it husband’s fault
when i was the original mover
the pancake flipper
I am the ones with keys, letters,
paper stating I don’t have tuberculosis,
One simple delivery
one itty job
(huhhhhhhhhh the biggest sighs, the old admission of HELP)
under the next time
that next thing
making me remember that
habit of losing things–
any traces of gills
this little fish with just barely
a memory of where anything’s hidden
heaven help me if i ever find treasure &
think to bury it.
so now it’s like this:
for my birthday, whenever that may be,
please someone, get me a private secretary,
a metal detector,
some ginko biloba,
and perhaps, maybe,
“glub”, which in this case, is fish for “word”.