Wardrobe

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Wardrobe


I am a study in false-starts. I have tried

and tried more to keep in separate drawers

my work pants from more presentable 

slacks, but the two keep sliding back 

like hope and grief to make furious love

till morning. I walk into my classroom 

with paint on my ass, to church with caulk 

down my left leg. When I reach 

into my pocket for a pen a screw 

rams itself up my fingernail and I bleed. 

I give up. Tonight I will again 

remove the board I so hastily installed 

to divide the drawer. I am a walking project.  


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