Poetry Exercise 3-23-16

Beside my desk are two owl statues
One an angry candle in translucent white and scarlet
One a disapproving wooden bird with beady pupils
Prized possessions, I suppose
Paperweights that keep all my leaves-
Those in the journal, on the screen, in my mind-
From flying away, having grown too light for gravity,
By the consequence of their penetrating gazes
Brave birds, wax and wood, to linger by fire
To escort me through the fever-dream of prose
And listen as I foolishly recite verses
On a day like today, when I’m caught up with
Bret Easton Ellis and kitchen cleaning and appointments
Their gazes tell me all I need know: write… or be damned!