I’m hoping to write the next two weeks
our last two in the country for a while,
to start something new. To go back to my
3 uninterrupted hours. Not being so distracted
by the phone, by the countless emails
from the Democratic Party (they need money)
by the many small things I do rather than
writing a story, endless small moments
of continual distraction: laundry, something
to fix or to clean, although I’m not
a fixer or cleaner. If I stay still long enough
a sentence (doesn’t matter how good it is)
will emerge: Dot arrived the way some people do,
with wild flowers in her hands. She’d gathered them
from the side of the road on her drive over here.
She said she had something she absolutely had to say.