Day 271 – The Last Few Grains

The hourglass sand is ticking
in the pit of my stomach, the last
few grains are trickling, I hold
my hand over the hole in me
to make sure nothing gets out
on the carpet, I can’t let them
see my disease, I can’t let them
talk me out of it, I can’t let them
figure out I could leak out at
any minute, empty out
all I have left to hang onto,
the last few grains I’m trying
to keep for me

Day 270 – And Yet

Some things you know and yet
they take such a very long time to know–
who could judge all these half-baked poems
crumpled up? They form the heart of me
that was not ready, that tried but could not see,
I’ll be lost to the ages soon but the endless drafts
and iterations will outlive me and I hope they remember
how hard I tried

Day 269 – A Question of Men

There is no question of men
that isn’t a mirror questioning me
there is no choice except
what I’ve already failed to choose

There is no love but that
which already exists
there is no call to give any more
than love deserves to give itself

And there is no strength or bravery in me
that I didn’t learn from someone else
so there is no reason to doubt that the giving
is a question that answers itself

Day 268 – The Bus

It’s doing me good to realize
I am not the one driving the bus
but I still pump the imaginary brakes
every bump we hit

It’s doing me some good to see
my steering wheel is just a toy
but I still grip at ten and two
and try to turn it

It’s terrifying to know that
I am not the one driving the bus
but I am the one constantly trying
to take command