By virtue of my traveling this week to Shreveport for the 2014 National Master’s Weightlifing Championships — in which my participation is to provide the real lifters with an easy adversary — I am already behind. But I persevere.
[No Title Yet]
I brush my teeth thrice:
once in the shower, the scald
filling my mouth and the paste running down,
burning the thin skin on my chest.
Twice, then, at the sink with a floss
in between for good measure.
The process, I imagine, is driven
by my urge to undo the half-assed
cleanings I’ve rushed through the other
days that week.
I’m making up for missed deadlines
and disappointments to lovers,
as though the extra effort before bed one night might repair past
missteps. The burn of Listerine at the end
if I get my shit together and brush
with conviction and discipline,
the suds in the sink would not be tinged