WHAT'S THIS?

Having been immersed in memoir writing for many months, I decided to write a small poem every day for a year to keep my poetic hand in. I've posted them to Instagram and facebook as written – where, to my amazement, people love them – but on this blog they are sometimes subject to later rewriting.
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Monday, 24 April 2023

I slept so late ...

I slept so late and so little —

when did all this rain happen,

the traces now lying heavy

outside on the morning ground?


The newest deaths arrive next,

back into consciousness. No, not dreams.

I shoulder them with practised ease

and a sigh; begin making breakfast.



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