I tilt my head left to right to left, then forward and back to forward. Roll it around. Shrug my shoulders down, then up, down, then up. Fingers squeeze, stretch, squeeze, stretch. Rotate wrists—bend at the knees, bend, stand and bend. Now at the waste, touch my toes, breathing in, breathing out. Shake it, shake it. Put on some jazz—the needle in the groove popping and crackling . . . settle in at my desk.
The pen is mightier . . . it’s so proclaimed.
I press the keys
and set out to prove it . . .
worldwide love
on the nightly news—
dreaming up
a brand new brand
of species
