Poetry Breakfast (Online) October 2017
I will have coffee and cigarettes on the porch.
I will watch the morning build itself
from fading dark. Men will arrive,
and I will think that this is work
I could do myself, but it will not be
true: there are to be new steps, and I
will only watch. There will be scrap heaps
and sawdust, and I will be busy, inspecting
cobwebs in the joists, pondering errant
commas, watching for the mailman’s van.