Residue Guidelines
I was told not to shake
my foot that way—
the luck leaks out
your restless limbs—
so could you sit
more glassily
and not leave the pillows
upright, another hollow
place to lose your
fortune. I feared young
dying, hating to
waste, but lately
when I cough or clot blood I
register this potential as
passed, my age
now emblem of having aged:
nothing to be envious of,
nothing to revere.
I survived past decades
fulfilling other’s schemas
and I offer you
the grammar of this chance:
keep your hair
unwashed to hold
its knowledge and
avoid writing
your name, or anyone’s,
in red except the dead
or those you wish
to be dead soon.
Nights turn off your
fans, collect
your toenail
clippings, and refuse
hums so you dream
of persimmons and
pigs. And if you have loved
then be early, even
earlier, to the after
death ceremony and
when you kiss
the other grievers
as you listen to
the chants, force your legs
greenly still.
