wondering if the pass will come
(don’t they all? … so far it’s true)
heart valve clamoring yammering,
hammering fluttering,
spasming uncontrollable,
like an eye twitch but far more
if not more neon sign
to passersby.

craving quiet time in space
wishing for air beyond this task,
for confrontation behind me
I want even more
to see this millstone float away,
up and away carried by work well done.

ah if only I could offer such labor
with easy repose.

This is not my current state of mind — neither the towering task nor the panic — but it’s one I know well. For some reason that knowing birthed a poem a few weeks ago, and that poem demanded to be finished tonight.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s