2
a small crime
as if I have been asleep my whole life.
as if waking had a colour, the
blue, the red,
the colour of eyelids
as if all I have ever known is the
early morning blankets,
the slow breathing,
the sweat, the still-
life
a human being cannot live like this
you are on fire,
you are burning,
I cannot help
but watch
you, like the fresh
cut ends of hair,
grass blades newly sharpened,
the ring of tiny bells
the capacity to love,
I want to dig it out of your
breathing
body
As a child I loved to make my own greeting cards, usually with excess glitter and random words that over the years became small poems (and less glitter). These days I spend most days chasing my daughter and dog around the house and carrying a trusty stack of Post-It notes along for the really good ideas, some of which are just the songs my daughter makes up to sing herself to sleep. You can let life get in the way of poetry or you can just give up and let life become poetry.
