Didn’t want to write today
they’ve come fluidly
through the crack in the dam
past four days.
Maintenance crew
must’ve finally returned from
the extended coffee break,
or strike for better wage.
To spackle and gum up
the crack I carefully carved
the flume by which my
creative ichor flowed
now waned to naught more than a trickle.
The flow comes and goes each day
that’s the challenge
of a perfect poet’s June—
thirty straight.
Some days I’ve got to apply more pressure
dig my hole by hand
excavate a space for liquid to flow.
Every day, break through the dam.