First you grab it by the mouth.
Then you pull it up North.
Upon reaching your kneecap
kick twist and stand.
Better, forget about relations.
Presume you’re not a robot
and live on the edge of a routine.
The simplest recorded movement
detached you from getting out of bed.
Don’t concentrate on the whole thing.
You’ll never make it.
And yet words pour forth
wherever you move.
Make me alphabet soup before I turn in.
I will never get to sleep
unless I dream
of moving along
miraculously.
How to Put on a Sock, Move and Understand
Published in Poetry