After the Edit
The ink is dry and set
Each page printed, envelope
Addressed and ready
I caress the page
I've sweated, bled upon
One last time
I pulled it screaming
Naked and angry;
I gave birth to it
I brought it into light
Not just to purge it,
But so it might be read
Now to insert it
Back into darkness
To travel through the post
To clutter a desk
In tomorrow's stack
Of things to do
It may be reborn
Or it may returned
At publisher's whim
Kelly