Behind Perfume, Only Solitude

Ink will come.  Lamp lung
breathes light at the edge
of an idea.  The edge
an idea, also the door

of the room 
that silence opens.

The pen sighs, a lens
for the shut-in light.
Breathe me, light.
Have the idea to have me.
Credit

First published in the Seattle Review. Copyright © 2009 by Liz Waldner. Used by permission of the author. All rights reserved.