Look into her brain
And pick out all the
Stories and
Unfulfilled aspirations

Brewing within the cognitive walls.

Dig out the thirteen similar versions
Of this poetic procrastination
And weed out the repetition.

Unless you believe it solidifies her point--
That life without exploration is
Not a life,
But a droning monologue,
Dripping with ambiguity.

Capture the list
Flying dangerously fast
Near her nostrils
And hold it still enough
That she can read all the things
She vowed to do
Before all her clocks
Scream twelve.

Find the spot in her body,
On her thumb
That houses her poetic spirit.

Kick it, Rub it, Push it.
Whatever it is you do to
Keep it alive,
Do it
Until poems spew out her
Belly Button.

She needs to write life
As it stirs inside her.