I’ve been meaning to write poetry
wrestle with my humanity
pen in hand
cup to lips
chip away at this perfectionist
(she is leaking out the edges)
.
I used to write more poetry
I thought I should wrestle with my depravity
but now the demons and I catch up over coffee
and I tell them to pipe down
.
I’ve been meaning to write poetry
with more grace this time
with less contempt this time
with more wonder this time
.
to hold the magic in my hand and wonder
this onion
this ant
this fleck of dust aflame with the simple joy of dancing in the sunlight
.
the perfection of a freckle
the tiny touch of divinity
dipped in the dirt of humanity
and made into wondering man
which became poet
which became poetry
which I’ve been meaning to write