What Sitting Here Can Do

It goes like this. Scrolling along, I notice no poems have been posted here since last July 2025. I have been depressed. This is what the debris from depression can look like, meaningful things left unattended. They pile up.

So I decide to write a poem right here, right now. 

Drenched in airless thought 

where laces always unravel,

a special heart dance

clears my shoreline of grief

and whatever else has 

accumulated.

The steps are my choice,

not the phantom looming.

A toe cramp waves at me

as I sit in silence.

I imagine it tells me,

We have the nerve to

to move on our own.

Amusing me

is now relegated

to my big toe. 

M. Flannery

15 October 2025