one more tonight…

When you can’t talk to anyone
writing flows out through fingers
and though it lay on the paper
it will rise slowly

When you can’t sing
write a cappella is nice
with wine and whether adagio
or allegro the harmony will soothe

When you can’t play the language of
strings and things that strike
hammers and syllabic rhythm
the bass will carry the bottom line home

When you can’t dance
a poem can waltz the best
and rap your knuckles with staccato
stilettos but ballet is flexible

When you can’t cry
the paper can hold tears
a little salt folded gently
careful not to bruise

When you can’t paint
write the colors, the lights and shadows
and the design they leave
Will map your heart to the treasure

When you can’t sleep
dreams or nightmares in
twisted sheets of thoughts
pillow the landing come down

When you can’t write
think and read and sing
and dance and cry and sleep
words will find you