Sunlight slants through the window in bars of gold, collecting in a pool around my feet. Shrouded in her own darkness, my muse moans and screams. At her side, I keep yelling, "Push baby, push..." The final few words have clung to the walls of her womb for hours.
last remnants
of afternoon light ...
half-finished poem
last remnants
of afternoon light ...
half-finished poem
Cattails, April 2017
