O, that is my hand heavenbound. i listen to what
i say & it collapses like fruitcake, like sand,
exactly as sustenant. a first draft might as
well be a first relative or first spider—just as
vulnerable, just as terrifying. all day a first
draft is being made, body-hot & uncomfortable.
sometimes, i’m ashamed of what i might trade
for a second, a third, or, God forbid, a darling
to save.