Sprawled
Suckling ideas and nursing the end of a pen
Until ink bursts into our mouths
The bitter manna of our labors
Silence is the answer
As we anxiously await scribbles
Passed from lap to lap
Page to page
Like Mid-Summer maidens
Sharing council and sister’s vows
Our story of innocence
Crafted with two hands
Our hearts and minds intertwined
Within our book of secrets
Our lives in fiction told
Growing as we do
Maturing with our days and nights
Until one day
We are beaten from the breast of the other
Falling away into two separate worlds
Of plot and poetics
But years later, here we sit
Worlds apart, yet close enough to touch
I search for a word
She struggles for a page
Together, we fight these battles in quiet communion
Worshipping the muses with offerings of ink
As if blood from our own veins.
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