i do not know
what to write,

so i fill the empty spaces of my sentence
with the teardrops from the previous paragraph.

i do not know
what to say,

so i repeat the verse
i started yesterday.

i do not know
what my direction is,

so i write the stanza
winding into nothingness like a bookcase.

i do not remember
how i write my poems,

so i draw from feelings
felt long ago.

i do not remember
how to read,

so i recall a passage from a chapter book
i have yet to finish.

i do not know
if this has a rhythm or an order,

but i know i will find it soon.

poetry will come back to me
on the next crescent moon.