Osmosis

I used to sit

in the old room and

hammer out poems

like I was sinking

nails at work

the machine was

brown, loud and

ugly

and the keys

struck the paper

like lightning

and thunder

and it pushed

the air out and away

and into the red brick walls

and through the vents

and cracks along

the window caulk

and out into the world

and the air,

full with words,

shot out of the house

and up into the night sky

scintillating beautifully

and beating down upon

the doors like

rain.