nocturne

when I slip into a canoe 

to call it sleep--no one

has questions to ask

                              I deceive myself  

anxiety is my specialty 

every rock a pinnacle

every ripple a cataract  

                              I deserve myself 

            I like to say I'm flowing

            but I'm falling... falling 

            so... slowly you can't tell

_________________________

The radio was the perfect soundtrack today, playing "Friday I'm in Love" (what a perfect villanelle!) just as I got into the car to come home after a long day of meetings. (EC and I have the rest of the FYS project mapped out; tied up some delightful student consults on projects; a student emergency where DD magically showed up to help renewed my gratitude that her office is just two doors away from mine.) Then the radio played "Nothing Compares" and the Prince-Sinead-Scout sorrow was overwhelming. "All the flowers that you planted /In the backyard/All died when you went away" will never fail to squeeze a sob out out of me. I blame this song--poor Big A said something innocuous in the course of a conversation around 2 am, and I had a full-on sobbing interlude. Okay.

Onward... I want to thank Mel at Stirrup Queens for the shoutout in her 985th blog roundup! The last three times I made it to the roundup, it brought good luck in the form of emails notifying me that poems had been accepted for publication in other places. This time--alas--I did not have any submissions out. Perhaps I should work on getting some out over the upcoming long weekend.

Pic: It feels like our first perfect fall day, and I got out--between meetings--for a walk-and-talk on the bike path with AK.