suspended animation


I had every intention of using National Poetry Writing Month as an impetus to keep me writing regularly during April, and then I spent the day traveling yesterday and missed Day One. So, I will begin my quest on Day Two.

suspended animation

I’m sitting at a shared table
late on a Saturday morning
in a coffee shop born of dreams.
the couple next to me are
talking over their computers;
the man on the other side is
whispering into his headset,
as the rest of the room swirls
with people staring into screens
and smiling into faces; one
baby is asleep in the crowd.
above us all hangs a small troupe
of wax figures, colored with
spices and caught in a fearless
free fall of hopeful abandon–
or so it seems from below,
as I ponder what lies ahead.



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