MARCUS AURELIUS GOT HIMSELF OUT OF BED EVERY MORNING 

I didn’t 
agree with his argument 
that as humans 
we weren’t born 
to feel nice 
that we needed
to get up and do things 
I could do plenty in bed
I had already 
had a sexual fantasy 
read a chapter 
of angela's ashes
watched five episodes
of house hunters 
and texted my crush
emoji heart eyes
my head naturally 
created a tent 
underneath the covers
I did agree with him  
that sooner or later 
everything would be bones
and charred idols
the visigoths did knock
all the penises from the statues 
when they sacked rome 
a docent once told me
my uber driver was outside
waiting for me 
let him wait I thought 
his car will be sold for spare parts
eventually his rating will be printed 
on the tokens given 
to child brides 

GROWTH MINDSET

I thought it was a sinus infection 
but I started having double vision 
I lie prostrate until the ambulance arrived 
It ended up being a massive aneurysm 
I had to relearn the alphabet 
when I was in the hospital my company downsized 
my department eviscerated
my long term partner left me 
looking at fawns out a window  
I took measured drags from my vape pen 
each day the sun felt a little weird on my skin 
I defied years of research 
doctors bloviated into my phone 
following my death 
my brain would be their bejeweled crown 
at times I felt guilty 
like when I was out bowling with friends 
I had trouble letting it go 
I knew they wanted to cut me up
I was their tagged cow
in a pasture of marvelous shadows

INFLUENCER 

On Mother’s Day all my friends were posting photos of their mothers 
I posted a photo of a vacated hummingbird nest I found in a rose bush 
When the cherry trees bloomed all my friends were posting pics at the park
I posted a gash on my knee that I had no memory of sustaining
when Mary Oliver died my friends shared her poems
I took a picture in the foggy mirror at Soulcycle 
someone wrote life goals in the condensation 
on days when it seemed like there was nothing to share 
there were scads of wedding photos to exhume  
I tried to delete my account but it was too late 
I had already been reported on and removed 

Chris Cheney is the author of the poetry collection Lay Me Low and co-author of the hybrid composition I Cry. He can be contacted directly at 413-668-6029.