Presumably from lack of use
As I try to kiss away the last moments of
Mother's Day
Sleep will not come
As I scribble this pen alive
(In an old food log
The page before this last ditch effort
Is a glossy magazine photo
A model
Gapped legs flat stomach
And a zebra face)
The smell of ink is invigorating
Nearly a year since a paper success
Or any success
Unless chasing of loved ones counts
What about size zero
Like last pages model
My body scarred with my own stripes
Zebra up and down my limbs
Well I have lived
Not in the sense if enjoyment
Just simply alive
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