By Paul Rabinowitz.
after brewing a cup of French roast
I step outside
songbirds echo from the magnolia tree
a shifting breeze moves around me
placing my laptop on the garden table
I sink into the sun soaked chair
rest my fingers on the plastic keys
waiting for that automatic moment
when a sharp pain rips through my stomach
I double over
notice my poem sitting next to me
she scoffs at my travel plans
my niceties about the garden
insists I’m lazy
writing through a facade
never close
with no apologies I massage that elusive spot
her chaos of words
as she moves closer
slams my fingers over the keys
slightly bruised I surrender to her fury
accept my fate
as the sharp pain in my stomach
slowly subsides
