THE DELUSIONS OF A NAIVE SOUL

Most early mornings,
I sit alone with a cup of coffee
and wear my privacy
like a second skin.

I think of Wordsworth —
“Lance, shield, and sword relinquished” —
I think of those I love.
I think of the great work before me.

Sometimes, I play music.
Today, it was Tatiana’s letter to Onegin
that I puttered around the kitchen:
“...with one word, revive the hope in my heart”
or something like that.

Perhaps this is all meaningless,
like Tatiana says.
This is not my best poem —
certainly not this early —
not because I don’t know what to say
but because how can you capture
the world exploding inside of you
while the rest of the world sleeps?

I stare out the window.
I will wait, then.
I will wait to begin.

 

 

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