In keeping with the recent Women’s March: one small step for each woman, one giant step for humankind. This poem has some age on it, but it is pertinent.
Monday is diapers, baking, cleaning
house, moments snatched from elastic time
where I stand at the lift-top desk during Sesame Street.
Bent with urgency over the board
unable to wait for inspiration
I write the hurried thought.
In the calm remove of summer
I gather the scraps out of the desk
and build what poems I can.
John Lennon said,
Don’t leave a lyric unfinished.
You won’t recall the original feeling.
Imagine being a woman, John, making do
with time at hand. Then come talk to me
and maybe I’ll listen.