and it's about writer's block. go figure.
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I used to find words everywhere.
They kept my pillow soft, flew out of
The aircon, squeezed through
That slit under the door.
I could feel them in the heat
Of the morning’s shower
Of sunlight. Birds chirped them.
And in school when Teacher’s voice
Droned endlessly on,
I would watch the windows
For stray words trapped
In tree branches. Words
Fell like feathers in the wind,
Swayed gracefully like a pendulum
Before landing on a girl’s outstretched hand.
Those were the words I fished out
Of a lake. Words I cooked on a grill,
Sprinkled with herbs and spices,
Gave out to crowds.
Like I said, I found them everywhere.
Which is why I’m now surprised
To see them asleep on the page
(snoring loudly and refusing to wake up),
To find that they leave our mouths
To fade like curls of smoke.
(first draft)
