by Holly Ordway
All the poems I thought of, but didn’t write
Crowd like ghosts at the heels of my unamused Muse:
The hackneyed phrases, the ideas that almost worked,
The grandiose schemes that had no real merit.
Let them go, these squeaking regretful fragments,
Let them settle into the scrap-heap of words,
Let them fade in the daylight, where I write
Or where I sit silent, feeling the warmth of the sun.
Holly is a poet, teacher, and apologist exploring the intersection of literature and faith, reason and imagination. She is the author of the memoir Not God’s Type: An Atheist Academic Lays Down Her Arms.