6

The pressure now on the middle back,
soon the spine will become a bow,
then taut to throw an arrow
backwards.

Now resting on the back of the chair;
packing the writing in words in front of me;
the back arches and the spine curves.

The writing continued:
word after word bent
to become the poem.

Soon morning will rise,
and Barbara will waken,
to stand up to a new day
and greet the surprise.

My fingers continued to dance on the keyboard.

Soon we’ll need to get a sound permit
(from the police department)
to go down by the waters and read
our poems to each other.