Monday, March 1, 2010

March 1st from Brooklyn

There's less than an hour
Left in today,
And like the boiling water
Which tries to escape this silver kettle
Through the small little hole,
And turns the whistle round and round till it says
Ai, ai, aiee, aieeee—
———
And fills the dark kitchen
With misty steam,
All the items on my to-do
List—finish this book, write
This letter, call—who?—
Some illegible name—take my
Medicine—that remain undone
Fight to be checked off my list.
This is their last chance not to be neglected
To limbo, without a day, without a plan,
Till I find another place and write
Another daily list in tomorrow's sun.

—EWW

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