So many techniques for living
better. Breathe in and out,
six counts each. Somebody liked
my imperfect teeth. I told him
don’t like them. I’m supposed to
say thank you. If I breathe
right, my pain will walk
away. If I speak correctly,
my pain will vacation
and die while drinking
Chianti. I always want
to tear myself out
of myself. I always want
instructions and ignore all
instructions. For instance,
I told myself not to talk
to you in this poem.
I told myself not to
blame you for everything.
You made me breathe
wrong. I want to breathe
the way people say.
I want to speak
the way people breathe.
I want my pain
to vacation in your perfect
red teeth. I hate “myself,”
embarrassing lie, as if
I belong to me.
Better Living by Jennifer Wortman | Sandalwood & Rose Poetry Reed Diffuser
$20.00Price
