Some days the mercy is small and you have to look for it. A dog that decides you are worth crossing the road for. The bus that waits. The stranger who says take your time, and means it, in a country not built for taking time. I keep a list because I am the kind of person who forgets, by evening, that the morning was survivable. Item: the way the light came through the one clean window. Item: that no one, today, asked me how I was really doing, which was itself a mercy, because I did not have the answer folded small enough to hand across a counter. Item: I was, at three in the afternoon, for the length of one song in a corner shop, completely and stupidly happy, and did not question it — which is the rarest item, the one I am always losing, the one I write down first.
About the prose poemA poem set as a block of prose, with no line breaks.
A prose poem looks like a paragraph and is written in sentences, without line breaks. It still works as a poem, through image, rhythm, sound and compression. Without the line break to shape its pace, the sentences carry it.
The shape Written in sentences, set as a paragraph, with no line breaks.
Listen for How sentences, rather than line breaks, set the pace and where the poem pauses.
4 poems in this form →@kai
Keeps a list of small mercies. Adds to it daily.
9 poems · 5 readings received · 11 written · 3 followers
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Matched by shared theme or form. Where two match equally, the one still waiting for a first reading comes first.