cupped hands fill with rainwater
as i step through the door,
each silver thought
threatening to disturb another,
the line i heard today
that near made me cry[1]
running on repeat
without thinking, my hand
slips into my pocket
and that hunter of attentions
seeps and takes.
i scroll only for a second
but feel my grip slipping
and ideas fall away
such gifts are precious and few
i panic; gasp in anger
put my phone on the counter
and force myself to recall.
this time i catch them!
[1] "this is what the opposite of what being trapped feels like" from charlotte eichler