buoy me, sister-poet
cram all your words
into yon flagon
fling it seaward
my impoverished muse
desirous
requires heartening
waft my way
steady as you come
leagues across
wash up on my shore
before your message
ebbs
buoy me, sister-poet
let’s clasp hands
sister-poet
Poem #15 of 30 Poems in November to benefit Center for New Americans.
