15. Halfway point
the middle of April
only 15 poems to go
and i’m running out
of topics
just now I started to type
how tired I am of
teaching when I really
want to go on about
how sick I am of being
me when all the things
I used to believe I did
well taste suddenly
like sand
clearly it’s time for radical
reflection
redirection
as if I’m standing halfway
to the end
looking back at my tracks
and wondering too late
where I’m going
