what will be written there
Some days your novels will be narrowed down to grocery lists
and the screenplay burbling inside will pinch into a note
you leave the kids to walk the dog or change their sheets.
There are so many blank pages you could fill, poems you jot
on the margins of your day, what you tell yourself you'll transpose
later, after dinner's on the table, after the phone stops ringing,
after you get more gas in the car. It's alright. Maybe, now, your prose
is meeting some other page, absent of a pen or the room to use it in.
What will be written here is more than words will ever do.
This vast and vibrant book that's always writing you.