Open, white page yawning out morning.
My notebook sidesteps any focus.

I’ve forgotten the raw taste of captured ink,
I’ve lost where the words reside
on my lips, against my eyelids.

Our black cat gazes at his watery reflection,
a palimpsest in the kitchen’s murmur.

Forgotten how to acknowledge the whirlwind
that shook poems out of me
like beating a carpet after a long winter.

Your sink laughter splashes bubbles,
you know I’m wasting time.
My poem jumps from dishes to table,
scooping up crumbs.

I’ve forgotten to give it time,
how to connect pen to paper,
to disconnect from technology.

You offer to buy me a bird book
to name our invited guests.
I begin our poem with:
Once all small birds were sparrows.

Forgotten the sound of thudding lines,
the surety of a bold hand scratching them out.



About the Poet:
Gerry Stewart is a poet, creative writing tutor and editor living in Finland. Her collection Post-Holiday Blues was published by Flambard Press, UK. Her writing blog is


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