Please excuse me from the meeting.
I’m feeling small and non-combative.
It’s below freezing, so we have no daycare.
The cable box is broken. The satellite
is misaligned. To Whom It May Concern:
The salt on the road crunches like teeth
so I can’t make the meeting because
I am using my fingernail to rub
a critical note into the ice
on the neighbor’s mailbox.
My tires are spinning in ellipses.
To Whom It May Concern:
My acupuncturist says my Qi
is puny, and the last time we met
someone told me to shut the fuck up.
I hate your monogrammed dress cuffs
so please conduct the meeting
without me as I’m suffering
from zipper failure. I’m hopped up
on caffeine and twitching. I’m battery
operated and recalcitrant. To Whom
It May Concern: I’d rather be reading
the story about the elephant crouching
in the corner trying not to be noticed
by the zookeeper’s wife in her ruffled
sleep cap to my son. I’d rather be reading
the book to him where the snowman
actually dies in the end. To Whom
It May Concern: I understand
the task is important, but I do not
want to be part of this committee.
I’ve been buried by ribbons of snow
in a giant frozen dazzling. The universe
is changing to a white cereal bowl
with lots of rivets and I’ve been told
we live on the frost line. Please excuse me
from this meeting. Dark energy is shoving
the cosmos apart and it’s best explored
in the pure environment of Antarctica.
To Whom It May Concern: I’ve moved
to the most difficult place on earth.
It’s impossibly blue and blazing.