November 23

comments 7

Don’t call me in the winter,
I don’t want to be found–

begrudging dawn
for how it plummets

into day, this bed
a nest, a raft–

it seems foolish
to leave it,

to give in to
insatiate minutes,

no, just like the tide,
I’ll go out when I’m ready–





  1. Enjoying your poetry. Very succinct, much humanness in each line. It reminds me of how challenging it is to be human, to have this conscious brain working us out the way it does.


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