Category: Poetry

A heinous disease
Makes her write in the fall
When December comes knocking
There are no words at all

Sixteen decaf coffees a day
And a call to the chiropractor
fix me please

Walking to the farmer’s market

Wished it would
Whip me up and
Whisk me away.

It was the wind
is what I’m talking
about.

Because it felt as if
It would,
Drag me serenely
not kicking
or screaming
somewhere else

I felt it flow
Over me
And when I closed my eyes I
Waited until it would.

clearly
it never did.

Written in May 2017, never posted until now.