I wake to the smell

of coffee

waffling into my nose

while I read

my favorite writer

hoping my restless fingers

will start punching keys

so memories

can pass through my head

onto paper

fire engine sounds

cranked with emotion

boiling my blood

into a stream of words

too hot to touch

and too loud

to hear

Panic and pandemonium

shake me from my bed

when each word

falls

like a ton of lead

It’s raining

metal

in my room

with weights

so heavy

they cannot be moved

I’ll write the last line

in this tomb

until the words have vanished

from my cluttered room

And then…

I’ll open my door

and walk

into the bright afternoon.