Poem a Day 2026

at night the thinking 
that the end could be nearing
and a wondering at what would really be different
my propensity for going months without reaching out
bad daughter i am
no one to answer a tax return question
but the next morning 
a dark grey ombré to sickly yellow
hanging over the queensborough bridge
breaks me open finally
the river flowing down
the ocean tide flowing in
feeding rose yogurt
her cheeks like my grandmas
but maybe it will just be a long
stretching tired feeling
for a few more years
and i'll have my chance to 
be good again
a hand held outwards
in both directions
softly