Half an hour with coffee
marking up a book—a check
to note sense, exclamation mark at astonishment
or disbelief, pages heavy on my knees.
And then a day of my own
work-related hazards. Tempestuous
blizzard of keys, avalanche of
email. Eye strain at the screen’s glare. Chair creak
like something about to give way.
Snow fell. The street was plowed and salted.
My dreams were white and treacherous.
I walked as if the pavement’s grooves
were signs of where it could collapse.
I wanted it to.
Copyright © Persea Books 2010
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on behalf of Persea Books.