Residue Guidelines

I was told not to shake

            my foot that way—

            the luck leaks out

your restless limbs—

            so could you sit

            more glassily

and not leave the pillows

            upright, another hollow

            place to lose your

fortune. I feared young

            dying, hating to

            waste, but lately

when I cough or clot blood I

            register this potential as

            passed, my age

now emblem of having aged:

            nothing to be envious of,

            nothing to revere.

I survived past decades

            fulfilling other’s schemas

            and I offer you

the grammar of this chance:

            keep your hair

            unwashed to hold

its knowledge and

            avoid writing

            your name, or anyone’s,

in red except the dead

            or those you wish

            to be dead soon.

Nights turn off your

            fans, collect

            your toenail

clippings, and refuse

            hums so you dream

            of persimmons and

pigs. And if you have loved

            then be early, even

            earlier, to the after

death ceremony and

            when you kiss

            the other grievers

as you listen to

            the chants, force your legs

            greenly still.