I Wrote a Poem Today



Photo by fotografierende from Pexels

I wrote a poem today.

Not this one of course.


It was one of those poems like

the one in Big Magic where it came

swooping across the meadow and

the lady had to run fast as she could

back to the house so she’d be ready with

pencil and paper and she only just

made it in time, catching

it by the

tail.


Yeah.


And it was perfect.

Like the Percy one

that Mary Oliver said came all in one

piece without needing one

word changed.


I wrote it all morning

lying in bed, feeling into

how it feels when you really nail it.

Imagining I’d nailed it.

Seeing it in the New Yorker

or on Medium’s home page

with 1.94K claps.

Lonely literary masturbation.


And then I remembered.


I have to get up and

sit at my breakfast table and

hold a pen in my arthritic hand and

put it to paper, and

write this rough approximation,

this sad, ordinary disappointment,

this truer one instead.


But then I can really say

I wrote a poem today.


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