Deborah Elliott Deutschman

(A contemporary version)


At the helm of this mess, my desk--
papers piled everywhere, stacks of words,
a computer screen to chart my way--
somewhere deep in outer space,
I steer along
with flying obstacles--meteors, satellites,
mysterious debris--endless hazards all around
zooming in for the kill;
gravity totally giving out,
black holes speeding by, waiting to pull me in
and trap me there--forever.
Then, suddenly, it all stops.
Quiet. Calm. And I see a whole new world:
Of words beginning to appear out of nowhere.
But then, gradually, I realize it's only another draft
and I'm back out in outer space again,
grinding on.


© 2015 Deborah Elliott Deutschman - All Rights Reserved -