Mignon Ariel King

It's not the universe's job

to wrap you
in cotton batting
while it turns

or hold threads
together so you
will not unspool,

nor should others
vacate their wounds
to balm yours.

This sounds harsh
after all you've
endured in this

world with its
many bruise makers,
but notice that

you are angry,
which means you
have not died

inside after all.
Grab that energy
and go live.

* * *


Things I Forgot to Do This Week

Buy clotted cream in Boston.
Look for the Cisneros memoir.
Watch Downton Abbey.
Ignore messages while in a very bad mood.
Cut my hair too short.
Search for a good sewing machine.
Make patterns without a sewing machine.
See if there's any turkey left.
Take medicine at 10 so I'd be asleep now.
Toss out 20th-Century drama.
Stop talking about a dead friendship.
Throw out dead plants.
Buy Kleenex.
Make a bowl of oatmeal.
Get two shirts with ribbon laces to sleep in.
Type something. One paragraph even.
Take off my soft, lilac robe before I fall asleep on top of the covers.

* * *

Mignon Ariel King was born in Boston City Hospital and has never lived outside of Massachusetts. She writes narrative poetry, love poetry, memoir, and short fiction. King is the publisher of Tell-Tale Chapbooks and Hidden Charm Press. A classically trained scholar gone rogue, she holds a Master of Arts in English degree from Simmons College and identifies as a womanist.