Oh, I'm not doing so well! Writing from a sick bed in someone else's house with someone else's computer - excuse the sloppinesses. Again, I couldn't really face working with a prompt today, so I've gone instead with a poem that was supposed to be about acceptance and titled 'Negative Ease'. Of course, it's about something else and it's titled 'Now Let', which is not such a good title but I can't think of a better one right now.
‘This will be your place.
A handful of sunlight,
on a good day.
The windows are blurred, yes,
old glass slides towards the cill.
But the view’s still
promising, don’t forget –
cloudy days are good
for reflection, or those of us who like
to draw rain.
And at night, well,
the world’s a different place at night, isn’t it?
Sleep crawls into your face
and fascinates your mistakes’
I think that’s what she said. Anyway, she nodded,
before I saw her face, and I am
occupied with my geraniums, the boxes
of books, how to shift
the household appliances, the great slippery
engines that make so much
noise, shake the walls, work
as they polish tomorrow’s glasses in
busy, cavernous guts.
So clean they’ll sparkle, and if you flick
with your finger, they’ll ping,
a round clear note, almost
loud enough to fill the room
now empty of her dull, quiet song.