Lindsay Tigue, featured in the new Ocean State Review

Predominantly Inattentive

I am giving you a version. By which I mean
I mask and I mask and I mask and I mask. I tell myself:
wake up and just wash the dishes. In my new home,
there are frequent hailstorms and the ice falls out
of the sky. And after, the neighbors tidy their branches
and leaves, but in my yard: debris. I want to have more
to give. In July, I bought a silicone
tube to peel my garlic, but I hardly cook for myself.
I eat cheese and crackers and watch people online
clean their houses, the time sped up, their bodies
all motion and do. Once, I flew in a plane over fireworks
and I didn’t want to hide. I search for things
that might make doing easier. You see,
you roll the garlic in the tube
and the peel falls right off.

PhD Student, Writer

It smells like soap in the room today and
do y’all practice dying? a professor says.

Every night. And last night when the power
came back on during sleep, I woke to the lights

on—all of them. Heat
humming from the vents. I mostly try

to remember why I’m here, why I love
what I do. My new online date asks me

what’s my job. Do you always
feel the need to express yourself? He really

asks me that. Sometimes I check my bank account,
turn to the dog and ask, how

are you contributing to our society? He drags a chewed
bear from the bin, runs right

toward me. In Savannah, I see children
pulling overripe lemons from trees

and they have a hasty joy,
a good fire. It is present present present.

I am trying so hard
to listen.

Lindsay Tigue is the author of System of Ghosts, which was the winner of the Iowa Poetry Prize. She holds a PhD in English/Creative Writing from the University of Georgia and an MFA in Creative Writing and Environment from Iowa State University. She has worked as an assistant professor of English and Creative Writing at Eastern New Mexico University and has taught classes for Writing Workshops Dallas. 

Lindsay Tigue’s website: https://lindsaytigue.com/