This is the time
when I am
most full.

No expectations
other than those I find
in the first word
of the day, or
in the decision to leave
this space intentionally blank
and tell myself it is fine;
to say out loud
to the empty room
that I’ve already
done enough,
considering how long
I’ve been at this.

This is not a poem
about poetry but
instead one about
the incomplete nature
of any completion.
It is about leaving things
awash in anticipation;
about tomorrow,
always tomorrow.