03/24/20 First Person, Somewhere, In Writing
What am I doing with
this feather in my palm
describing a miracle…?
I’m built for war.
Okay, fine, I’ll stay here
set up by the window,
I’ll just keep a record
and vote with the bagels.
Every window has a light
and an eager stranger.
Power is fluid
authority is not;
each life has only one author
-- yes, story is turbulent,
so much depends on the weather,
but do not offer your evanescent “I”
For anything less than a miracle