when I promised myself
a poem every day for the new year
it seemed easy
I mean
I wrote a new piece almost daily the year before
how hard could it be
but words come slower when you order them around
they act like molasses in winter
uncooperative and hard to get to
the hardest part is finding things to write about
that don’t include broken hearts and bleeding wounds
I know I can’t heal if I keep picking at the scabs
but poetry about hurt is as easy as blinking
scabs [poem]
Larissa Lee 