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 
Fantastic. Sounds like pulling at hair to get a message out just the right way at just the right time and the world has a problem cooperating with that. I’ve been there.
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I spend a lot of time there!
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Me too. Curse of the poet?
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Yes!
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This feels like snapshot of this last week… and the one before that! But tomorrow is a whole new span, and with luck at least laundry will get done. 😊
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Ha! And yes, tomorrow IS a whole new span!
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I know the feeling . . . Your poem captures it well.
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Thank you, Liz. I’m glad it resonates.
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You’re welcome, Robert.
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