Poem

Drafts in the Room

Cloudy day in the classroom.
The sun’s inverse outside--
a first draft is a dirty window,
I say, and you must clean it.
Revision resistance, the myth
of the perfect first draft
rises, shrouded in this
mind-mist in my midst.

Revise or continue are the
options for today. Look
back or forward—
up to you.

Your first draft is
a candle in the room,
throwing feeble light.
Show us the carved wood,
the chandelier, the
shapes and sounds of
a living room--
bring in the torches, raise
the blinds and invite us into
all the rooms of your mind.

You enter a relationship
with your writing, I say—
think of friends, family, love—
not always easy.
Befriend your writing, offer it
a drink, a handshake, a hug,
a pat on the back, a place to rest,
to lay her head on your lap.
Let it ask you things—

take your time in replying,
but get it in by Monday.