(or: Writing on the Right Side of the Brain)
Courtesy of a wandering
Mind, I find myself
Circling the clock
Of the heart through echoes
Of time, looking to luck
Up on some newfound energy
To break the monotony
& escape the hell
Of being held hostage
By writer’s block. Granted,
I was preoccupied
With the necessary
Agony of watching my
Mother’s
Mortality teeter for
Six weeks
& four days
Like riding a seesaw.
& then, when dad called
& said, “she’s gone,” I
Wailed like a newborn
Who’d just learned to cry.
& then, after
The seesaw, I saw
People flock to the hall
Standing room only, to
Share in her life’s
Labor of love…& felt
Her call, “Michael,
I told you not to worry
‘Bout me; but, now
That you’re fluent
In the right brain, in you
Is a world of words
Left to draw.”
“But Mama, I write.”
“Exactly! imagine
All of the sondering stars
Unfelt & unsown.”
