Saturday, April 30, 2022

NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty, Poem Thirty


In Bed
 
Last words
will be
written off,
 
guttural sigh
from blinding
sunbeam 

because 
they think 
I need light.

My last 
profundity
days prior 

set aside
to write down
Buy bread, eggs,

more things
I know longer
want in me.

Let me
store breath
like a bank,

cash out for
final expletive
mid-recline.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I’m not sure which line I like best! This poem resonated.