A lazy glance up from the keyboard and I meet the eight eyes of doom.
Fuck.
My thoughts slip out from underneath me,
Two legs worthless against the icy battlefield of nature.

Holiday tomorrow: I’ve got to pack.
A fortnight’s break—there’s lots to pack.

At least a dozen detective novels
Riddled with serpentine plots to pack.

The white square bowls
with their curved sides
align in the dishwasher
neatly overlapping.

Sample man
Sample man
Handing out crackers all day
That’s an ample plan
People ran
When his shift began

Open the farmhouse windows in December. Pack the patient in ice. All nurses must wear fur coats.

Crank start the car. Get some medicine, any medicine, from the general store.

If the mother can’t breastfeed, give the baby coffee with sugar.