cynthia loves poetry

“How do you write?”

Here is how I pull together verses: I wander in a fog, stumble over words, clutch them like lifelines—as if they might somehow save me; the fog congeals, swallows me whole and I tumble, engulfed in a seductive sea of delusion—lost, swimming desperately for shore until at last I break through the haze: chaos clings to my skin—words glimmer, shimmer, converge—rise with me from the depths—no longer lifelines but librettos, lyrics with rhythm sturdy and sure, shapes bending into form. I cradle the verse—seedling poetry, fragile but alive, barely breathing. The fog lifts; the page exhales. I write.