—Rep. Raúl Labrador (R-Idaho)
Nobody knows about
how the fingers of fog
have blown the fuses
of her synapses until
the email has been sent
and returned, the form
submitted incorrectly,
the name misspelled
but published anyway.
Even her conversation
has retractions most days.
Then Nobody can’t find the words
she wants and substitutes
the silence of a search
party, whose communication
is the weak stuttering
of drugstore flashlights.
But what is there, anyway,
to say? A poorly balanced
budget of cellular
call and response, toxic
to herself, Nobody only pre-exists
before what is not likely
to be a grand exit
but the kind few
notice, like the melting
of those sneaky slivers
of ice in a dry martini.
Nobody’s digestive organs
have joined a union
to limit the hours
they want to work.
Nobody’s muscles and joints
resist like dogs who think
their humans are on
the other side of the door,
who have not really left
and are up to playing
some sort of cruel trick.
But it’s a matter
of willpower, healthy
eating, giving up
the Diet Coke—more water!—
says everybody Nobody meets
who all recommend
hot yoga, as correct
as House Republicans.
Tomorrow it’s time
to take that advice
instead of pills, invest
in ClassPass instead of
Blue Cross Blue Shield
and believe that
in decades Nobody will still
be posing in the light
steam, awash with joy.
Look at her now, already
how Nobody sweats and laughs.