Work

Scooping the cat into your arms, taking the stairs
upon only one leg, washing the tabletop
with your cheek, smearing your lipstick on
with a toe, opening the front gate with a punch
of your hip, a one-two-three and you are in the car,
instructing the AI to play a John Mellencamp song,
you steer with your breasts, wrap the phone
around your tongue, pile the avenues and streets
beneath your thighs, open a coke with your teeth,
dip your eyelashes into a cup of mascara and
did you know? That you know how to trim bangs
with a stare, type out memos with your belly button,
with the will of a neuron create cough medicine,
fluff your bush with your two heels and nose.
You use your ten fingers to light ten candles,
draw the bath with an earlobe, make amends
with the politicians and investors, strike your
shoulder upon the wall, sending sparks flying,
you lie down into the water, spurt out clary oil
and almonds from each nostril, take a breath, and
rise into the ceiling like a hot night, exerting itself
upon the turning fan blades, and you carve suds
into a bowl of acacia, drop in your keys. You are
securely complete, done for the week, done today.

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