Written By Krista Carson, The London Writers Society (LWS)
At the gym—
that silent disco—
or in the grocery line
when you forget the yogurt
but think of all seventeen ways
spiders are like stars
& you dilly with nostalgia
recalling what you stood for
when you were nine
or dally with fallacy
conjuring verdant days
when we agreed
on at least some things
and—just then—
reclusive words hang
by a moth-gobbled ampersand
in the doorway of your mind—
stay with them—
loiter nearby—
meet them at the hearth—
roll them over on your tongue—
let them be
strange tormented
shy or twee—
harbingers or killjoys—
grant them space
to dawdle veer
or ferment—
to coax you
from algorithmic torpor—
to dwell with you
agog in great mists
and hurts and trilliums—
ask those words
what goodness means—
they will surely tell you—
watch April & then May
sail by with them—
those aortic wildcard scribbles—
tiny revolutions
in the margin of your to-do—
scatter confetti
on the madcap page—
name a working title for today—
seek exquisite light—
do it anyway you like—
you need no invitation—
it is your birthright
Krista Carson writes
poetry, creative nonfiction, and fiction. She is
completing doctoral
studies at the University of Gloucestershire, where she explores the role of walking in creative writing practice. Krista teaches at the college level and lives in London, Ontario with her husband, daughter,
whippet, and cat.
