This poem was inspired by Mary Oliver.
Writing tethers me to the world. To myself. What happens when the tether snaps? When words won’t come. When loved ones fail us. When friends betray us. The tug of the abyss is too strong? Sylvia Plath put her head in an oven. Hemingway put a gun to his head. Langston Hughes swallowed lye. Virginia Woolf walked into a river with rocks in her pockets. What will I do if the tether snaps? Whatever I do if the tether snaps and I fall to lie and rot like a tree in the woods. I hope green things lean over me and caress me. Grow on me and feed on me, like any nurse log.