On Attempting to Write. By Alyssa Trivett

I hear a faint wisp over yonder,

quieter than a church mouse,

only for the wind to create a new

soundtrack of leaves hurricane rustling.

Sometimes, the words just

seem to hang around.

The post cortisone shot hands

keep on tip tapping,

so I count toothbrush bristle branches

outside my window

and envy flickering streetlights,

still fighting to stay on.

And scrawl a few lines about it
over Tom Waits and howling coffee.

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she chirps down coffee while scrawling lines. Her work has appeared in many places, but most recently at Ex Ex Lit, and Duane's PoeTree site.