The heart for sure, surely from some incomprehensible sadness or happiness. I’d like to think this is what a poet would look like in an inspired state (a wonderful challenge on Indigo Spider’s Sunday Picture Press).
photo credit: Chris Bucklow
a woman looks out the window
for a darker wing, a snowflake word,
she sees how quiet
Muffled by sleep.
Does he know? the man in her bed.
how she waits.
then there are gunshots
tremors unrest people on the streets agitated children
canons of yore
and she writes.