my stomach
is twisted–
torqued toward itself.
is it nerves?
is it stress?
(was it hunger?)
could it be
all of the
above?
my stomach
is twisted–
torqued toward itself.
is it nerves?
is it stress?
(was it hunger?)
could it be
all of the
above?
staring at your phone
won’t make your boredom alleviate,
but i do it anyway.
procrastinating your projects
won’t make them arrive any slower,
but guess what i do.
stress dreaming about choreography,
about packing and school long since freed,
or any sort of event approaching at gathering speed,
doesn’t seem to help in the least,
but that’s what my subconscious thinks will help me.
~~~
i can sometimes feel the stress
in my forehead
when i’m contemplating life,
or doom-scrolling through each app
that brings me no joy, only sorrow,
and when i feel
my muscles tightened,
and my eyebrows furrowed,
and my body edging towards taking on
on a tenseness i haven’t felt since college,
i try to relax that part of my face
where the stress enters.
and sometimes it does help
(and sometimes it does not)
~~~
i make lists,
but sometimes i wonder if
i’d be a more mellow human
were i to simply
not.
a stress
a moment before we deal
a fear
a breath, a poem, and a sip of coffee before we head out
to the emergency vet (are we familiar faces yet?)
and hope for the ‘best case scenario’
(which is still a tumor)
the problem with having a dog
who already doesn’t get excited by food
is that decreased appetite
isn’t the same shocking warning sign
as it is for other
families
the balance
of yin and yang
(Kip and Kip)
is to have the one
be
stressed out of their mind
working all day
(during vacation)
snappy,
trappy,
not happy,
and the other
enjoying
Repair Shop
and
audiobooks
and leisurely cross-stitching
all damn day…
~~~
went to bed
with an ache
that could have been the universe
reaching into me
to warn me
of something devastating approaching
or
it could have been
empathic absorption
of my spouse’s stress.
(when will i find out which?)
~~~
no,
please don’t eat the chocolate,
or the dog’s food,
or sleep on needles,
or rub yourself all around in cedar spray
or-
-what did i just say about the chocolate?!
[this cat]
the stress
is starting to get to me
(even though i know
i’ll probably feel so much better
just writing the damn monologue,
or getting a damn shower,)
but i’m holding out
for…???
to feel actually grungy?
to feel actual inspiration?
i have other things on my to-do list
go through headshots
write to some agencies
actually cut these damn fingernails
but the immediate
is
to make this house
a home
(and turn the apartment home
into just an apartment again)
and everything hurts
and everything’s exhausting
and i’ve split more fingers than i can count
just from the dry air
and yet
i’m actually happy/excited/stoked
for the general month
for the general year
the general life we’re building here
it’s just the immediate
that brings me
multitudes
of
stress.
poem, poem, poem-it-up
gently in the morn
stressity, stressity, stressity stress
don’t get too forlorn
…where has that feeling been?
that connection with the universe??
[it’s probably packed up in a box somewhere—
i’ll find it again once we’re all moved.]