RiverSedge, 19:2, 2006
Words crunch and crack
Against ice popsicle fingers,
Strain and starve
My shipwrecked pencil.
Damn! My
Barrel resting blank
Against a swish selected
Stenciled cradle notebook,
Waiting for a water
Break in wasted morning writing play.
Disciplined, my craft tops
Smooth crest rivers
Cartwheeled over words.
Distracted, my voice coughs
Up shells and broken glass—
Polluted, useless tide.
Poet’s physics
[once in motion]
Stays my
Hand, begins from
Dead
Start
Still…
Momentum is the middle child.
My pen-tied orphan stands her ground.