This was an assignment for a creative writing class. The intent was to do a poem in the 'voice' or style of another poet. I chose the free form style of George Lober, whose work I admire for its emotional honesty and clarity.
Weekend Morning I’m awake, but do not move. Diffused light blinks past the drapes, silently Shadowing her graying hair. I just watch Nelly breathe. I want her to wake up, but don’t want to wake her. So maybe just peering round at her Will cause her to Open her eyes and smile. She’s a plain old woman now, except When she smiles like lighting a room. Phantom and real pains nightly Exhaust my wife. Our American Eskimo will soon be clicking her claws; Old dog and old master - old friends - go stealthily answer nature.
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