"Losing Track" by Sue McIntyre

Thirty days hath September
April, June and November,
All the rest
have

be still
wait for midnight
witness calendar tile-flip
one day to the next
in that changeover moment (geometrically non-existent)
something found?

search – not sure what for
break fingernails on sticky advent calendar doors
push clock hands backward
test for spring
ponder pyramids
mull moon charts
4 tablespoons in a quarter cup, 16 in a cup – what’s a pint? a pint?

open one pale eye to note
pillow dent – perplexingly familiar
je suis, tu es, il est, ou est la chat?
(did we have a cat?)
the jolt of no

stair where a stair should be
or not

thought of a list
lost
work yet undone
dust mote clues

are they gone? here?
posing as grocery carts, pineapples, lame excuses?
the extra key to the garden shed is 2 rows down in the flowery bed

are these hash marks? or claw scrapes?
where is that length of string
knotted for remembering?
fingers, toes, rhymes, labels
notes written
misplaced
losing track of

days

Sue McIntyre writes about domesticated wolverines and HOV lane rangoli, working with poetry to find perspective on her life as a mother, wife, community volunteer and recreation worker at a seniors’ centre. She is President of Vancouver Poetry House, performs at the Vancouver Poetry Slam, and has her work published in the nine chapbooks of the Shoreline Writers’ Society.

Sue writes a blog called “mompoet – word from the ‘burbs.”