Adam D. Weeks 

Instructions for Care


Find where the body ends, in an out-of-focus

landscape defined in thousands of angles, defined as


i.the physical structure of (a person or animal), how we were taught

to interact in a world of steep hills and deep valleys of bones,

flesh and organs that we’ve lipped into our own

anatomy. Some days I see myself in the sky, my own body


ii.the main section of inspection, of a car or aircraft or way of moving

from where you are to where you want to be. In this it seems

I’m a cavity to be entered, a question of what constitutes a body

in the industrial age—so I’ll tell it like this:


iiiI loved her, even if I never knew how to hold

her. I understood the body as a central part

of something larger, and when we touched, we did so under


clothes, as if to say okay, we’ll save that for later. This was

a separation of senses, understanding an image as unreachable, gravel

ground soft inside the lens. All we could


iiibe was a collection of something, of past tense

touches, suggested superstitions about how this body runs

into another,


v.a distinct material object or, similar: an item to be handled with gloves.



Adam D. Weeks is a senior undergraduate student studying creative writing at Salisbury University. He has poetry published or forthcoming in Poet Lore, Slipstream Press, The Shore, Prairie Margins, The Allegheny Review and Broadkill Review.