Today I started a poem
a very poor poem
The title bled into the first lines.
the verbs weren't sharp
the nouns, not all accounted for
Upon reflection I cleared my desk
picked up my pen
and quickly wrote another
not as a poet of course,
my poet days ended at the first poem.
I wrote the second, more as a custodian.
wiping clear the trash and clutter
scrubbing up the ball of my pen
unwrapping new paper
and balancing clean words on its blue shelves
in the quiet cupboard of my journal