A Brief Word

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A Brief Word


Some say pain, others put it more politically 

as pressure. Either way, here is the thing

inside, wild and kicking and wanting 


out, and here—yes, here—is the birth canal 

of a ball-point. Get the point? Hope 

is our only anesthetic. Grin and bear it.


Heads down now, bending to the labor

like more worlds than yours depends on it.

But depend on it: one day, when you fill


the tires and it drives off with a will 

of its own, returning to tell you

in its own words what it’s seen 


past the cramped margins of this small  

town—maybe, even, past the dust-

jacket of soil and sky—you’ll know why.

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