when i write
i write at a table
but i don’t use the table
(except to hold my morning coffee)
i slide down in my chair
and lift my legs to the other across
and lay my laptop across my lap
cross one foot over the other
and write until my legs or butt falls asleep
or until my terrible posture hurts my back
or until my arms start to get sore
from low-key holding my laptop on my criss-crossed lap
and somehow this works for me
though i can’t help but imagine
a me
where i sit properly
feet fully reaching the floor
posture great
writing without pain sneaking its way in
and wonder if
i’d write
better
longer
if i sat like
a regular person

~~~

the cat gallops upstairs
chasing invisible ghosts
and singing the song of her kin
and at least she can amuse herself like this
for hours on end
while we break our evening’s fast with coffee and poetry and song
the cat’s harmony never quite fitting with whatever we play
but that’s why we love it (and her) so

~~~

i would like to write a letter to my grandmama some time today
because she constantly writes me lovely greetings
‘how are you’s’ and ‘here’s been my day’
and i love them so much.
and i’ve told her,
but i know the reciprocal is just as loved as the appreciation
and she literally said she wonders how we’re doing
so i suppose that’s what is on my agenda
(other than circus)
today