Forgotten Ground Regained
Fore(dis)closure
Forcing inspiration is futile,
for I am too emotionless and too exhausted
to produce perfectly projected hit pieces
and too raw to read back the writing
and remember all that I've gone through
and embedded in between each and every letter.
My surfaces are scratched;
windows broken; cabinets falling off their hinges.
The tile in the bathroom is lifting from the grout
And there are pockmarks in the plaster.
--Years of picture-frame-pretension have dimpled me-.-
Only gaze at my lawn,
brown, brittle, breaking, and bitter.
On a perfect white-picketed mast,
I've put a sign in the front yard
before you can even come inside
to see for yourself.
Copyright © Margaret Stears, 2023
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