the list.

this day
— this blank slate
of white

- paper -

piles of
notes
and bills
and lists
of
things
to
do.

maybe now
maybe later

or maybe, you won’t be strong enough for the fourth task
that lives halfway down
the well-crafted list
composed of things like
shower
clean
eat
sleep well
and smile at someone

so ink crosses lines
through completed
tasks
small items of
closure
bringing some comfort
here.

only masking
the truth about
this place
piled high with papers
that were once
branches waving at
heaven

now signal death
with a surrender sweep
of white
blowing
tumbling
crackling in the wind

but death doesn’t yield
it pays no mind to the white flag
or to the banner held
between yesterday and today
that screams
in red angry typography

a futile cry
for something that can never
be crossed off
the list of things
to do

today.