For today’s prompt, write a “the last time I was here” poem. Imagine you’re returning to a spot (physical, emotional, psychological, etc.): Is it a good thing? Bad thing? What did you leave behind (if anything)? What’s there to welcome you back (again, if anything)?
Morning
The last time I was here
it was yesterday
and I can't recall it.
Who was I then
- waking, standing up stiffly,
having some time to do some
things.
I did them, largely, by the time the sliver
thin moon dipped into the Pacific.
And today
I have some time.
There are things to do.
There is a sense of having
some time.
How much - perhaps -
was the question
yesterday
and today
and tomorrow I - perhaps -
will be here
and this hour
the light of the November morning
will glow the white curtains beige as if
from underneath
The day will feel familiar, but also brand new,
and I will glimpse but not grasp
the imperative
of either.
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