Even the Light
You look out and the sunbeam blinks –
a difference in brightness
on the drooping seeds.
Some days nothing gets done.
We live with the unwashed,
with stacks of mail, the unfolded,
the incomplete. Phrases pop out
only to crawl away, and later,
reincarnated in other forms,
embed themselves just under
the skin, calcifying. Scratch
as you might, no relief appears.
Your tongue grows heavy
from shaping these words.
Even the light subtracts.
* * *
“Even the Light” was published in the May 2017 issue of La Presa.
O at the Edges 
🔥
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sometimes the words just won’t come, or at least won’t come together! I console myself with the possibility some higher wisdom wants me to wait, to let the subject matter mature or mutate before I revisit … but, yes, scratch as I might, no relief comes in the moments of such frustration.
LikeLike
This happens to me all the time. I generally move on to something else — perhaps music, or even revising pieces that have been marinating a while. The words always return, though often not as I’d hoped. Ha.
LikeLiked by 1 person