No I Haven't
by Laura Grafham Knapp

No, I have not written for days,
the forecast wind and icy weather.
It drags. Words come slow.

The brain has an uncanny way
of being able to hold itself;
as gray mass presses out.

I have not written for some days,
but that does not mean my eyes
examine wet mulch
less than last week,

does not mean the green
buds are not doing their best
to shed dead skin cells and rejoice
like last year

and the year before.

That was the year bees were
dropping dead,
at least, the year I cared.
If I saved each one,
trapped their fuzzy bodies in clear glass jars.
Now I can’t own a jar with a lid.

Copyright 2022 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.