from Red Boots
HYPOCHONDRIA

What is the problem what is it I ask myself day after day it does not change

 

I walk through the rooms of my house I open the windows though it is cold

 

In my throat I feel it like the dripping heart of a peach I feel it when I bend

 

Down to pick up something I have dropped when I see some scuttling out of

 

The corner of my eye darting towards the complexed shadows in a room

 

Once I loved the white hide of winter once I forgot once I was glad I really was

 

In spite of everything in spite of my promise to myself to be different and quiet

 

To give up scouring your unblemished body like a map I could not and I cannot

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Dylan Carpenter lives in Baltimore, where he is an instructor in the Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins University. Poems from this sequence appear, or are forthcoming, in Poetry Northwest, Ninth Letter, The Iowa Review Online, The Seattle Review, and other journals.