When the sun rises with my mind
My heart reaches out
To the people
To the places
I cherish, I trust

In joy I am awake
Fingers grasping
Heart beating as the bird’s
I could fly with
If I tried

Alone in bed
In happiness I can’t contest
With book or brush
To balance the lightness of my stomach
With the calm of my soul

Still I know, with the sides of my eye
with the back of my mind
that in the corner
By the sill, by the door is perched
Plastic coated ink
Agent of our ends

Waits for the day to end
Waits for the joy to shuffle off
The moths to settle on
Waits for the sun to set

And on the moon rise of my soul
I fumble, peace spills out to the floor
and blinded in the dusk
Ink and plastic caught in hand
Gives me air as I begin to drown

Pens are for the night
Poetry for misery