Lines Composed after the Lasagna Dough Has Been Made
I get it now—elasticity—
the tug and curl of edges
against arms and flat surfaces.
Forcing the matter. The staying.
The giving.
Five lines (day two)
elliptical shifts
bequeath February with
truant light; shape shifter skies—
like lamppost bulbs—following
the timed ascent to evening
Five lines
Years ago, when I fell into what is sometimes referred to as “writer’s block,” I found an outlet in haiku, tanka, cinquain, and other short form poems. I made a pledge to myself to write three lines a day, sometimes five. I was able to keep it up for over a year, until the file folder, neatly titled “haiku a day” was inadvertently sucked into the cyber trash.
I’ve been in a little bit of a rut lately, so here is day 1 of the new “five lines a day” folder.
no mind for words, no
sink hole to burrow or free
unforgivable limbs
from pen caps whose plastic scratches
leave no trace of helpful blood
Amy Nawrocki 