Checklist

I have to write one line before S.
will let me get up to eat another cookie.
(I write two lines and realize I can write
the rest of a poem before eating more cookies.)
I have to package the remaining cookies
in plastic bags, locked plastic bags, to
send to K., who is the small criminal who
printed out the recipe to these cookies when
she last visited.
I left two cookies at M&M’s house earlier
today and I know from past experience that
M1 meant to only eat a bite but ate all of
her cookie and maybe all of M2’s cookie.
I have to file my taxes, finish reading the
article about the Brooklyn Poet Laureate
who competed against 22 other poets for
the position and who writes poems on scraps
of paper, poems that get published in the
New York Times.
I must find scraps of paper.