whatever comes to visit

a dream, a grace,
or catastrophic thought
I do my best
to respond to the guest
sometimes patron
off-and-on lodger
even an inmate
in the crazy house
I call my mind—
there is no control
but once it shows up
my job is to notice,
to work with the caller

calamitous thoughts
are noted, considered,
then with respect
I ask them to leave—
prompts for a poem
flash in and then out
I rush to jot them down
when gratefulness comes
I cinch up to the dock
and stay a while
a welcome anchorage—
what better place to rest?

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.