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You Sit to Write

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This is my favorite ode to Kathryn Medland. She is an inspired poet and I want to make that clear. And so, in admiration of her art, I wrote about her. There might have been a crush involved.

You simmer before the page,
Ruminate about a tree, 
In November, on a cold bench, 
And ratchet a pen 
Between your fingers.

Words crunch through
The gravel at your feet and dapple
Upon the page in cursive,
Evoking the spires of trees.

At your desk, pressed against
A clammy pane of glass, a mirror,
You strain to perceive differently 
But words retreat; the page is still 

Clean in your room at midnight; 
But you need to write down 
Your crashing thoughts, 
And then comes day 
And the Muse neither visits your pen 
Nor your paper.

©1994 chris abraham

Mar 10, 1994 12:00 AM