A poem for your moment.

  • What’s enough?

    It’s quiet evenings,
    I’m in the rough.
    Despite all I’ve given
    I’ve still got stuff
    to unpack for myself
    to let the dust settle.

    Is there a moment I missed
    to claim what I needed?
    Did I make a mistake
    to not take what I heeded?
    Because it’s 10-15 sharp
    and I’ve got an empty plate.

    I had thought that today
    might fill me with laughter,
    but I’m disconnected still
    drafting to the rafters.

    I don’t know what I need,
    to put bones in my feet.
    But I know how to breather,
    to put me to sleep.

    —

    in