It’s
a to do list.
It’s a poem.
It’s a list.
No. A poem.
Let me read it to you.
take the car for service
make an eye doctor appointment
call Afam
fix it fest
renew passport
See. It’s a
poem.
It’s a list.
Says who?
I do. It’s my list.
You’ve
composed a poem.
I wrote it. It’s a list.
The minute you
set your pen to paper it became a poem.
It’s not a poem.
You gave your
words to the universe.
It’s a list.
The author leaves
the page once the words are set down.
I must take my car for service.
So it can be
at the ready.
I need to go to the eye doctor.
All the better
to see the world.
Look I haven’t called Afam in a while.
Call Afam if
you must.
I’ve mending to do with him.
Of course. The
fix it fest.
My passport is expired.
Then by all
means renew it. So you will be free to flee in your now sturdy car because the
mending of things with Afam proved foolhardy and you saw it all too clearly
through new eyes.
It’s a to do list.
It’s a poem.
©Karen Casady 2018
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