Morning Ghazal By Wendy Cartwright

Tart sour locks up churning guts, relieved only 

by bitter in the back of my throat, hold on,

chased with sweet nicotine, deep breaths,

ruminations, and all I can think is hold on.

Marching band in my skull, sousaphone bells

clang against one another in rhythm, hold on,

with clarinet reeds chipped by preteen braces 

and too little spit, just trying to hold on.

Fists clenched around palms full of air,

The only way I know to hold on.

Wendy Cartwright is a poet/author/photographer/reporter/columnist/weirdo (among other things) out of Columbus, Indiana. Her travels have taken her as far as Mayan Ruins and as near as the filling station. Her undiscerning tastes allow her to find creative fodder regardless of location. She has been published in various print anthologies and featured in online publications. She has also self-published 3 books.