pillow lips and lucky southward grips
is this real life?
Filling my mouth with dreams
Terrified to fail at this climb
Baby big steps will do the trick and I do not want to cease
Comparing the geographical spires and coming up with more questions in my lungs
gulping the reality
I want the hard brass tacks of movement
and then coil into a kitten sphere as my head overflows
I have been bleeding from my skin and dripping salt from my eyes.
The ink will come.
It always comes.
The pressure builds and wonder how a person can survive the days
and if my forehead will wrinkle itself inward with worry
I read too much in bed when I was small
my shoulders and forehead were formed with
ink and pages
Now is the time to act, I keep hearing.
I rise with frustration of needy things
The things that could be cleared with a duster and a push of an opening window.
I wait in bed, breathing in the day, wanting to scoop sweet vanilla ice cream into my black coffee
instead of almond milk.
Wanting to inhale the inspiration that pulls and tugs at the sheets around my long legs.
Peppermint Patty would hustle in birkenstocks and not give any shit what she was supposed to be doing
I am supposed to be writing
and moving it
like the tides into the hands of the capable ones.
But I am capable and it moves me to feel stronger in my steps