Wasted Page

Words don’t come easily

Bubbling in the night

Only to dissipate today

They don’t arrive

And upon arrival,

They’ve already left

Somewhere, Anywhere

But here

Anywhere

Just not Here.

Here is where I want it

Here, I lie

Awake,

Asleep,

Tossing,

Turning every page.

Hoping to find and keep

That spark

That light,

To light a fire

Extinguished.

Languished sack of

Raw potatoes.

They’ve more zest than this.

And there it goes.

There they go

Here no, there

No, just anywhere

But here

Blank blank

Blinking at what

Nothing but an unsalted

Bowl

Domed by imitation Silver.

Fool’s gold.

Traded for a measly craft.

A craft only to be used

– A forbidden use

I might add –

During witch’s hour

The hour most necessary

For both dreams

Dreams that light a fire

To this page

Dreams that

Smoke into

Pepperminted eyes.

‘Tis Time

To Wait

For night bubbles

To dissipate into-day