January 8th, 2014

I fell asleep writing this poem in my head. The walk I took
home at lunch to get student work I had left on the
desk I never use, the way, when I got home from the day,
I had an electric energy I had never felt before and took
out all the trash everywhere, cleaned the bathtub, cleaned
my room, and read Philippians, the martini I had on the way
home that warmed my veins only slightly and didn't dull
my brain, the poetry I read and the plans I made and the
thoughts I had about my students until tears came to my eyes
and I lay on my back in my bedroom with my feet on the bed
sobbing for things I have no right to hurt over, the exercising
and finally the bathing, the rising from the tub, the gathering
of the laundry from the dryer: water from a rock. Healing: 
nights thick with sleep that sheenes my skin in the morning.