Poetry didn’t happen yesterday, so I’m working on it today.
The Morning After Conversation
words have left me
up until one teasing out the threads
trying to unravel guilt
and hurt and maybes
flowing away to what is going on
in music in publishing
or to what the week holds
or how to understand my poetry
risking time for a breath of calm
we come back to it decide
now tired I sift syllables from sand
crumbling from the corners of my eyes
slowly I type the day into existence.
© 2015 by Robin A. Sams