A Poem



Journal writing is for quiet

If I don’t the words will spin in my head

I repeat them like twirling on a dance floor

I don’t want to forget them

So I repeat them and repeat them and

It’s like the pounding of a keyboard.

They echo like

Trains sound in tunnels

Brass instruments in a theater with the right walls

I like it when the words stop moving

When I

Sit down and put on headphones

Sounds of music replace the

Hollow rhythm of repetition

Words swirling from brain to page

A sentence with t’s crossed, i’s dotted

Subject: me

Action: doing

On the topic of why is it being done?

Hard stop, space,

Capital letter for the next line. And the next.


Abigail Koerner ’21 (arts@harvardindependent.com) writes for the Harvard Independent Arts Section.