Self-Care

Have you tried
rose hydrosol? Smoky quartz
in a steel bottle

of glacial water? Tincture
drawn from the stamens
of daylilies grown
on the western sides

of two-story homes?
Pancreas of toad?
Deodorant paste?
Have you removed

all your metal fillings? Made peace
with your mother? With all
the mothers you can?
Or tried car exhaust? Holding your face

to the steaming kettle?
Primal screamed into
a down-alternative pillow
in a wood while tree bathing?
Have you finally stopped

shoulding all over yourself?
Has your co-pay increased?
Right hip stiffened? Has the shore
risen as you closed up the shop?

And have you put your weight
behind its glass door to keep
the ocean out? All of it?
Rang the singing bowl

next to the sloping toilet? Mainlined
lithium? Colored in another
mandala? Have you looked
at yourself in the mirror

and found the blessed halo
of a ring light in each iris?
Have you been content enough

being this content? Whose
shop was it?