winds smooth
over wood, glossy
surfaces, lift…
gather your anxiety into a rock
the size of your stomach…
take the cloud into your hands,
squeeze out the sugar,
squeeze out the air…
do you ever hold still so long
you wonder if your toes
remember how to flex…
I tipped the bowl toward me
and it spilled…
pearls sewn on wedding
dresses, shining…
When it was all over, I looked at the dot with a tail curling on the inside of my wrist.
“Why did you want a comma?” the artist asked, cleaning their tools….
field brown is dingy
grass is achingly green…
I hear
my words swirl
into the air…
sometimes you write a poem
on a tissue…
Daily Poets 