Friday, September 6, 2013


I would prefer to have other things occupy my mind.  When something vital, like a professional calendar, goes missing, all the creative spots go missing as well.  They are taken up with anxiety. My daughter and I leave this afternoon with a friend and friend*s mother to visit schools in Boston. We all have different ideas of what such things mean: trips and college visits et al.  Meanwhile, the floors are being cleaned downstairs.  I cannot locate my calendar, which has our flight arrangements clipped into the front of it.  I think I must have put it somewhere safe.  Right.

I sit upstairs
While the floors are being cleaned
Underneath me.            
It began
It continues
As a day
Of discombobulation.
I try to settle
In an upstairs chair,
In the bedroom.
This room is already clean.
My calendar
Has gone missing.
I know it is somewhere
Perhaps I can blame
The cat.
I consider the implications
Of a calendar
Lost in thin air.
I reconstruct it
In my head.
Again I settle back
Into the green chair.
I would like to write creative things.
Not this.

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