Page-leaving nib hovers-

the hesitation of an afterthought

replete with intentions,

trapped and bound in ink

stops and sinks your pen to the

sheet once more.

But an afterthought

isn’t necessarily a reflection

of less importance,

a deflection or performance

disjointed and detracting

from all that you’ve said before.

By afterthought I mean something more-

maybe even

the thing you wanted to

say all along

but have only just summoned the courage

to write now that the space is

nearly gone.

The post scriptum is the preface

which took time and bravery

to develop and emerge-

the place where all of the ‘almosts’

of previous lines combine, gain momentum

until you use ‘P.S’ to ‘mention’

the point of each and every stacked

letter and word which preceded:

teetering under the weight of meaning unheeded.

‘I miss you’.

Thoughts distilled, post scriptum.


Shift, escape

Fingers hover over scattered words, unformed,

you stare at the blank screen replete

with intentions and conversations

that you’d mulled over and dreamed

before you got to this point

where you hope your thoughts

would be slightly less muddled

and disjointed – disappointed to find

that screen-to-screen, face-to-face,

it kind of makes no difference,

the problem’s in your mind,

not the space where you try to express it.

The fingers wait to be ignited and

anointed with signification, to strike up

a relation over electric-charged voids

not heeding the hesitation you’ve conjured

in your own head, not wanting the contents

of your brain to be spilt onto a page,

to stain with ink or typed out lines

only to be read by outside eyes.

You close the window,

you avert your gaze,

step away from the blank spaces

That you’ve lost control of,

you shift, contemplate return: