Sprinkled on the desktop
screaming to be heard
words peek from beneath
unpaid telephone bills
daily journal in a dust covered jacket
tax forms, deadline fast approaching
last night’s cup of Chamomile tea
poetry magazines three months old
with a note, “Submit to this!”

I find them wedged
between threads, chili dogs and garlic fries
hanging on Christmas photos of Uncle Pat
stuck to a chocolate smudge on a Valentine
hiding in a poetry workshop memo
the seed idea four weeks old
attached to a yellow post-it marked
“Urgent-needs immediate attention”
dated two months ago
wrapped around Webster’s Dictionary
floating on a cloud
of gray cat hair
Himalayan, sleeping nearby.

Searching through clutter for a poem
is like an Easter Egg Hunt—
there’s always a treasure close by.

© Susan Parker
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author’s written permission.