Today a poem arrived whilst I took a break from attending to my tax


There’s a tiny tessellated
corridor of tentativeness,
I’ve paced it often–
back and forth–
afraid to push the door aside
and find myself beyond the bounds
and strolling through those spacious fields
(they say)
a spring of courage flows.

I’ve heard of it,
I’ve searched for it,
I found its source one day.

And ever since I left
that tessellated terror
and ever since I found
that mighty spring
I carry drops within my flask,
and every time I drink from it,
I’m sure
that more