Poised

 
In the jumble and tumble of my everyday
Lie scattered notes, fluttering
Calling me to play
Cards of important folk
Fallen off their perch, beckon
Dotted lines in the middle of my draft
Shoved aside by the four lines
That came to be in a burst
Willful, undeniable words
Taking over the moment
Regardless of the urgent minutiae
the daily dust or deadline

the pendency of precarious present
like the plumber waiting to be paid
The heart waiting for attention
As it misses a beat, contracting
With longing for that
Which isn’t, then or here
Neither there
When it comes to the vision
Of clacking heels
Beating the rhythm
Of that perfectly coiffed life
Leaving in the jet stream
Projects properly poised
Each bit telling stories
That remain in my wake

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