I am happy with my dumb robot vacuum
though I nearly clicked Buy Now
with PayPal credit, thirty-six dollars
over twelve months, which is a more
tantalizing mountain, in increments,
if that’s the route I want to go, though
there have been, in the past two months,
too many sudden changes in my life.
I am reinventing myself, forming
new habits– I make my bed each
morning now that you’re not there
still sleeping when I awake, and
shave my armpits when black hairs
unfurl around my arms. For a while
I have been a wild animal and you
asked who I am now last time
you were over, saying now that we are
not together, you have good traits,
which is a phrase to run through mind
I promised not to think about, but
it’s true, my date– the first after
our ending– asked what are your
goals for your time? And
I blanked, what are my goals?
I had already told her about poetry,
that I am always reaching
for meaning that isn’t there.
I answered I want to reclaim
myself, and she said that’s
a lofty goal, without knowing
what I meant. I don’t even
know what I meant, and that
has always been my problem.
And my allure. We sucked
down cucumber gin and
left each other. Hanging.

(originally published in The Indianapolis Review, Spring 2025)