I wrote the following piece for the Literary Taxidermy contest, which I didn't win, thus I am sharing the piece here.
GROUNDHOG DAY
124 was spiteful,
my mind rageful,
pure creation at a standstill. Purposeful is to help. Help others to help myself. Get out of my head and get my hands working. Packing coolers: Four milks Four buttermilks Eight banana puddings in 8 ounce Styrofoam containers Eight salads comprised of 12 pieces of lettuce Eight pieces of bread individually wrapped in wax paper Eight ripe bananas Eight bags of salty chips Eight single-use butter packets Eight single-use salad dressing packets Eight roasted chicken legs Carried to the trunk and off they go to their new homes. Twice a week. They’re shrinking They’re forgetting They’re falling. They’re used up.
When we cut the garden greens new shoots emerge
but eventually they will stop.
How many rebirths do we get?
My fingers still smell of cilantro.
Every day is the same. I look at the clock to tell me what I should be doing. I can only eat between certain hours. Outside of those hours I let my stomach erode and gurgle, sitting with the pain because that pain is the only thing I can control. Sitting with the pain,
like a stuffed animal companion sits with a child. I can only run at certain times of the day. By 8 it is already too hot. Try again tomorrow. I wake and look at the clock and lay back down. I turn over and rise to look at the clock; I’ll try to sleep some more. I lay there trying to fall asleep but my mind has started and won’t turn off. I wish there was a toggle I could tap to turn it off. Reset Notification New software update Guaranteed to put you to sleep in less than three minutes or your money back Download and install
Backup failed Not enough space Remind me later
You are what you read. Today I am trash. Tomorrow I am woman. Growth in a jar, soaked in water giving hope to sprout only to be stopped short and spread out on my sandwich.
To live the same day over and over again, I am Bill Murray and you are the groundhog. Life will resume once I figure out my purpose. Four milks Four chocolate milks Eight juices Eight jellos Eight cornbreads Eight butters Eight plastic bags to remain on this earth longer than those who are receiving them Zipped and departed Styrofoam will never decompose but you will beloved.
