MANUAL LABORS

 

 

Wendy Walters

Don’t Want to Worry

All these years since I’ve known you
and yet three days after we last spoke
I have trouble remembering
My name.
          And like I said—
          there is no need for a remedy
          if you cure me of the desire
          to spell “dig”
                         I said—
                         There’s a soft chase
                         near the turnpike
                         Where my old car
                         Where I hid my hat
                         in the wheelbin
                         Put a thick foot
                         on the stone.
          We are off the workload
This good day (Heave!)
Twelve trowels of loam (Pull!)
          begs the question
                    What desert
          begs the question
                    What medicine burns
                    brightest the pyre?
                                                  (I’m a fighter!)
On the white rocks/through the church town/
Head towards the river/ to reign it in.
Tin can, good buddy
Two coins in a bucket
Our tears hit a hot pan
This wind sounds like—
          Did you leave your shoes behind?
          Walking out the door.