By Christina Wilkins


There is only so much reading you can do

before the words squirm away from you

and hide behind great empty pillars.

But now I’m always reading and my eyes,

that were so used to reading line by line,

are flicking across and between as

there are new windows opened up to

breathe in texts and form. How often

now do I open up the sullen blankness

of an empty notebook and pause?

I cannot always absorb the swathes of

black on white that intently demand fresh eyes.

The still nothing of creating is now being

reformed as we poise not pens but thumbs.

The cool lined paper sitting in wait.


Christina Wilkins spends most of her time reading and writing. She can be found teaching at University or most likely, in a cafe somewhere. 




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