The neighbors have been arguing
for three days straight about dogs

and sepsis and secondhand smoke
which means Dizzy Gillespie has been

doing double time on the vinyl, warmed
just enough by frenzy. Meanwhile a sunbeam

touches the bald heads of my toes as I will
my heart to hold its horses. I take deep breaths.

Count the things I know. One: Patti Boyd
was once married to George Harrison and

Eric Clapton. Two: it is possible to snap
your fingers using your thumb and ring finger.

Three: if you want to keep brown sugar soft,
add a marshmallow to the container. At least

that’s what my grandmother said. Four: Soak
wax in hot water if you can’t scrape it. Five: Put

a toothpick in your mouth when cutting onions.
Yes there are things I can do to make it seem

I have my life together. So what if I choose
the exact same seat on two separate planes.

So what if it’s the same in movie theaters. I try
to pay all my bills at the start of every quarter

and only do laundry on Sundays. In some ways
this is exactly who I am, pockets deep with what

is lovely and mundane. The line between sense
and nonsense a thin demarcation. Sometimes

I wonder if I can drown in the shower, hair
clogging the drain, skin clammy under water.

Then I remember what waits in my kitchen,
resting in their skins: bright, bright oranges.

T. De Los Reyes is a Filipino poet and the author of And Yet Held (Bull City Press). Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Variant Literature, Poetry Northwest, Sixth Finch, West Trade Review, and elsewhere. A 2025 VONA Summer Fellow, she has been nominated for Best of the Net. She is the founder of Read A Little Poetry. Read more of her work at tdelosreyes.com.

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