This week's inspiration for my poetry workshop comes, wonder of wonders, from writing my thesis...
A shush falls over my body as I compose
the words of my next unwritten poem. I let phrases
grow into sentences, like birds of a flock
landing on the wire of the page, one following
the other to its perch. But I must maintain
the silence because my pen has not yet reached
its final end, silencing the rush. The words still drift
and fall into place, like icing sugar leaving the strainer
before it hits the cake. My body turns cold
and delicate, as if my muscles have been turned inside
out to catch words like mosquito paper. I am afraid
to breathe too loudly, sound makes the whole
process collapse. If I am not careful, I could lose
an unborn dream. The words could float back
up, and never return again.