Extrusion
2025-05-07John Mortola
Wounded

Extrusion

In something like surrender

I squeeze that place in me

Where words reside,

And seem to hide,

When I in vain pursue

The ego’s wish

To compel them to appear upon the page

It’s pleasure to imbue with rhymes in merry measure.

In the end those words did send

No message through the pen.

But in the room was clearly heard

A fairy’s tiny giggle.

Inspiration / Author Note

Somethings just can't be pulled into existence. Or perhaps, they just resist dancing with our vanity, when, on occasion, we imagine that we write them.