(writer’s block 3)
i don’t write poetry anymore.
there’s no more imagery in my head.
no feelings waiting breathlessly to
be expressed. no portraits of lovers.
not even a few leftover phrases
from someone else’s poem waiting to
be reworked into a brand-new poem.
there’s nothing anymore. not a thing.
since i started taking all these meds
words just slip off my mind & dissolve.
like alka-seltzer in cold water.
poems bubbling away into air.
my mind effortlessly efficient
& horribly, hideously bored.