April 4: Clearly, A Solution

Clearly, A Solution

I put away the poem
I never wrote. Tucked away
and buried, never to see
the light of day
or night. Variations
keep popping up, reminding
me of its potential,
a line here, a line over there,
lurking in the viburnum,
or under unfluffed pillows.
Worse than housekeeping
those bits announce themselves.
Hiding things is noisy.
Word burps.