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✨ A Poetry Peck on the Cheek for Home at Heart Muse

Updated: Feb 5

"Advice to Myself" by Louise Erdrich




Advice to Myself


Leave the dishes.


Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator


and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.


Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.


Throw the cracked bowl out and don’t patch the cup.


Don’t patch anything. Don’t mend. Buy safety pins.


Don’t even sew on a button.


Let the wind have its way, then the earth


that invades as dust and then the dead


foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.


Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.


Don’t keep all the pieces of the puzzles


or the doll’s tiny shoes in pairs, don’t worry


who uses whose toothbrush or if anything


matches, at all.


Except one word to another. Or a thought.


Pursue the authentic-decide first


what is authentic,


then go after it with all your heart.


Your heart, that place


you don’t even think of cleaning out.


That closet stuffed with savage mementos.


Don’t sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth


or worry if we’re all eating cereal for dinner


again. Don’t answer the telephone, ever,


or weep over anything at all that breaks.


Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons


in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life


and talk to the dead


who drift in through the screened windows, who collect


patiently on the tops of food jars and books.


Recycle the mail, don’t read it, don’t read anything


except what destroys


the insulation between yourself and your experience


or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters


this ruse you call necessity.


— Louise Erdrich


 
 
 

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