ON THE CONSTANCY OF FORGETTING

When I wake up and nothing hurts,
or something hurts in a soft way:
radiating, muscular, reminding me
I can still break and come back stronger,

or even when a small discomfort comforts:
dry mouth, a rumble of hunger or tingle
of neuropathy, the civil defense sirens
silent, the sad trombones and tiny violins

mute as sleep, I remember how I love
when the weather forecast is wrong
in either direction, and how I thought
physical therapy was for the indolent

and then it cured my pain, and while
there may be no food in the fridge
there is food at the store my phone
will pay for with my job stress.

Nothing’s burning or even smells bad:
so much given and chosen and dreamed
of and not, the unlikelihood of any of us
waking up ever at all, let alone here

and now together in the careless flip
of a blank new day like no other
and so many others: it’s true
there are fates worse than clichés.

BIO: Julie Benesh has published stories, poems, and essays in Tin House, Crab Orchard Review, Florida Review, Hobart, JMWW, Cleaver and many other places. She is a graduate of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College and the recipient of an Illinois Arts Council Grant. Read more at juliebenesh.com.