Approaching my self-imposed deadline again.
All in all, I would say I have been doing good with posting at least weekly, but then a day like this comes and I don’t know what to say. Literally the only thing I have written this week was a handful of poems, mainly inspired by the bonkers weather we have been experiencing. On the one hand, yay new poems, on the other, boo no blog. So, I figure one could bleed into the other a little.
They’re not good. Of course, I think nothing I write is good, and I don’t want to go getting your hopes up. These are not my favorites or my best, just what I’ve gotten out of myself recently. And since I can’t seem to get a decent blog post out, I’ll go with this until I find one.
Makeup- deleted for submission, 2020.
Below my balcony a baby wails-
Over and over
And I agree because that winter weather
Has moved out for the summer,
Packed its bags and disappeared
To leave me boiling
In heat too early for May
And I want to rush to it
My maternal instinct kicking in
And hold a cool cloth to its head,
The one on mine,
The one to take away this headache that does not leave
Because there is a baby
Wailing outside my window.
I plant flowers in cheap dirt and pray for miracles
Like raindrops and sun
But the ground freezes over again and I am reminded
That this is Buffalo and I should know better
Than to get my hopes up like the vines
Of the morning glories I try to bring to life
Despite rocky soil and poor climate.
I don’t know excitement,
Because I can never muster it,
No thanks to tiny pills that run my body for me
Because it is too tired to run itself.
I look for joy in these little seedlings,
But find myself disappointed
When nothing remains but dirt.
**published Street Light Press,2018