Rambling On by Alyssa Trivett

My writer powers, once considerably good,
now dissipate in the form of
left-corner-pocket crumpled notes;
waste basket inching for basketball hopes.
Some days I want to hang it up.
Other days I’m relentless and I cope.
I sleep less than my ill family member,
their illness chasing us up the ladder;
up every three hours, the unpaid night watchman
side effects from treatments easing in.
I retire to the same pastime, being up at ungodly hours,
sleeping less than a comma’s edge.
Pouring more coffee into thimbles
of any thimbles I ever had.
Dreaming toasters electrocuted themselves.
Driving to work and finally cutting my hair to resume
my semi-normal having two jobs life and not
looking so much like a writer. If that exists.
Being husband-less in a world full of love.
Let me create a show called WhiteGirlProblems, no hashtags
where I leave the makeup remover open by mistake
and throw down another seven dollars in quarters.
But the sleeping came back. Slowly. Overthinking.
Showed up at my doorstep pleading and open-toed.
Had a premonition the other night my seven angels
dropped their ears to the ground,
and light poured in.
And finally everything made sense, again.
For now, at least.

Alyssa Trivett
Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has appeared in Scapegoat Review, Peeking Cat, on VerseWrights.com, Walking Is Still Honest Press online, and Duane’s PoeTree site.
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