an elegant beauty

like honey

the way syllables sometimes
stick to the roof of your mouth
then slowly trickle down
like honey

where thoughts once flowed
on the page like driftwood
floating downstream
pages soaked
in what used to be

writing poetry is like
trying to open
a jar of honey
tightly sealed
contracting muscles
involuntarily this
is what it’s like
to write poetry in
sticky honey that
has now spread
like the letters of a crossword,
a puddle of syllables
glistening by my feet
collecting shards
of what
used to

- s.d.t // 3.24.17