by Ann McNeal
Today I am content
in my discontent—
feeling the
restlessness,
wanting completion,
itching and
scratching,
looking elsewhere.
While behind,
below, between,
around,
something
like a waterline
in a painting
anchors, stills,
keeps level while
red clouds
and purple
all around
surge.
Originally published in The Spaces Between, Nuthatch Press, 2012.
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