I am not celebrating this year. 
Can’t afford to. Let’s just say, I’m spending time
There’s making an inventory.

Words like deficit 
to describe the animal clawing inside my leg,
my gut–it wants out bad. 

I dreamed of a dew-gray hawk one night. 
I was the hawk and I saw myself flying. 

Who knows how the story ends? 
I’m a writer–no politician–no soothe-
sayer, either. I want us all to have–
to be nice things to one another.

Thank you all so much for your words and your community.
Next June is too far away. I’ve been really busy with life
the last week but I look forward to reading back and seeing
everyone’s poems I might have missed out on due to busyness.