It’s not usual for me
to sit and look
at the blank page
and have nothing come.
So, I’ll write about nothing coming
from this poet’s brain this afternoon.
Even as I write I need to stop
and think and go back and edit,
something I almost never do.
I usually write, keeping my fingers moving
on the keyboard until I finish.
And then I go back and read
and edit and maybe do a little rewrite.
But, this is not a usual writing day.
I am stumped.
I can’t think of anyone I don’t know
to write about.
My poem a week challenge to myself
may have to remain unfulfilled today.
Instead I write about this unknown
thing about myself and pretty soon
the page once blank seems
to be filling up with words
and I’ll come to the end of it
and perhaps forgivingly let myself
and my challenge off the hook
and call it a day.