Jottings
A laptop waits in its black nest.
I consider not writing anything,
ignoring the blood deep voices.
I wish I had a few ending words
to write, completing one story
and the beginning first lines of another.
If I look away, distract myself,
voices might remain un-excavated.
This house of windows and keys
may stay shut, silence pound
on windows
I can no longer open.
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