My beverage depot
wants to save me
money on my
favorite spirits, and I thank
them, then
agonize over choosing favorites.
Some days it’s so
hard to rise I can barely
bring myself to
place the right offerings by
my favorite shrines.
Hallway eucalyptus,
burnt toast
offering in the kitchen, daily
shower squeegee
strokes, and the wads
of fragrant
cinnamon gum gently smoothed
beneath a train
station seat; next, standing
in prayer, left
hand clenching rubber, the right
balancing in air
in unison with the supplicant
commuters, on our
way to our sacred jobs
or skipping work
to thank each open flower
at the Botanic
Garden, despite my allergies,
or because of
them, sneezing vigorously,
so when nurturing
volunteers pat the mulch
by roses and say,
“Bless You”, I can share.
Ori Fienberg is the author of Old Habits, New Markets (elsewhere press, 2021). His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in venues including the Cincinnati Review, the Dallas Review, Essay Daily, Heavy Feather Review, Obliterat, Pank, Sixth Finch, and Subtropics. Ori teaches poetry writing for Northeastern University’s College of Professional Studies. Read more at orifienberg.com and follow @ArtfulHerring for poetry and political tweets.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan