Routines: Poem 1

[QDeathstar]

I liked this. I found the chopped language as a utinsel for setting the tone. I'm not sure if you meant it or if your not totally fluent in English (very few are), but it worked. I think the paragraph form is OK, the flow is nice and the words are relatively simple so it's not difficult to get through.

you have paint a picture here, but in poetry most are looking for meaning. I feel like you were going somewhere in the third stanza but just gave up and tacked on a "the end". Consider adding depth to the poem.

Routines: Poem 1

I clock out from White Digital Media Group where I write B2B copy and walk to my sedan. I ignite the car, tune it to Jazz 88 and drive to the reserve. I change into my running clothes and the woods breathe me in and breathe me out. I drive home and am greeted by my folks, their tenants and our animals: chickens, dogs, a cat and cockroaches.
 
Mom is in bed, often with pain from a car accident, or sleeping with the TV turned up to block noise. At 10 PM, she will get up and dress for work: the blue top and black bottom Walmart uniform. Her husband watches the salacious mock court TV show, Caso Cerrado, in the living room.
 
The Guatemalan tenants eat and talk in the kitchen. Everyone says buenas tardes. I check to see what mom’s left for dinner and eat standing up. I wash my dishes, throw them on the drainer and retire. In my bedroom, I denude and form an arc at my desk over a book. Later, I straighten up and wrap myself in sheet and blanket. Nube curls up behind me and I shut my eyes.
 
Through the night I am a linen hung on a clothesline in an open space. Dreams and nightmares blow against me. I remember past loves, act out taboos, repeat trials and am visited by ghosts. I wake as if bursting from under water. I inhale and look around. All things are in their place. I push the covers off and throw my legs over the edge of the bed.