September 28, 2010

permission slip

Determined, the writer looks at a slip of blank paper with hope
that she will know what to do, that in quick succession a string
of sentences will begin to appear, and these she will manage to rope
into beauty and order. But one by one, the paragraphs cling
to each other muddily, and the writer must choose between wrestling words
and the more difficult task of unclenching from her pen. She wants an anchor,
of course, the one she's so familiar with, to keep her tethered to her task, like birds
pecking at a half-opened tin until the lid collapses. But sometimes work is just ardor,
and she has to release from the grip of her own good intentions, until she is lighter
than the paper even, until she can erase herself and let the pen write her.