The pen drags my hand
across the page,
daring me to write words
faster than it can move.
Images, words, phrases
drip from the ink and
burn onto the page as my
hand smokes,
white with heat.

Fingers strain to contain the
flying point and whip the
pen across the page with
uncontrolled fury.
The last words fuse to the paper
and blaze with triumphant glory.
The finished work,
sweated and hoped for,
beams from the page.

Lindsey Milton 1994

[ Back ] [ Poetry ] [ Home ] [ Adoption ] [ Next ]