After the move, there are new things to write 100 times on a sheet of paper

I will mitigate chronic grumbles with occasional watermelon
            I will acquiesce to opportunities for sudden bliss
I will recite the litany of names of friendly neighbors, dogs included
            I will quell the urge to hang wet sheets on a phantom clothesline
I will keep Comfortable with Uncertainty close to hand
            I will simulate contentment until the real thing fits like a soft sweater
I will lift the needle from the turntable before it plays a dangerous song

                                 On the other side of the page, these:

I must not pave a new rut with old regret
            I must not try to exit the wrong door
I must not turn savage when I cannot find my lost purpose in the other room
            I must not heap coals of annoyance on non-existent dead embers
I must not mistake inconvenience for cataclysm
            I must not disturb the new breed of sleeping dog
I must not misplace the moon

back to issue

Annie Stenzel (she/her) was born in Illinois, but did not stay put. Her full-length collection is The First Home Air After Absence (Big Table Publishing, 2017). Her poems appear in print and online journals in the U.S. and the U.K., from Ambit to Trampoline Poetry, with stops at Chestnut Review, Gargoyle, Nixes Mate, On the Seawall, Psaltery & Lyre, SWWIM, Stirring, The Ekphrastic Review, and The Lake, among others. A poetry editor for the online journals Right Hand Pointing and West Trestle Review<,/em>, she lives within walking distance of the San Francisco Bay.