Circumlocution . . . if only . . .
mired in reruns . . . the solace of the familiar . . .
taking a break . . .
assembling rationales for the hiatus . . .
you find plant life . . .
a crack in the glass . . .
from moment to moment
and then the drying out . . .
moving on . . .
folding yourself into an envelope
with instructions for re-entry . . .
riffling through dog-eared pages
transfused . . .
as if in the narrows . . . boats bottleneck
then begin without waiting . . .
But waiting . . . for what? . . .
The blank page? . . .
The incomplete sentence? . . .
You too cast off
then rethink
lines from your favorite books . . .
your favorite films . . .
By why now? . . .
Now when the others are about to arrive? . . .
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| Anka Zhuravleva |