A Letter To A Friend Which I Poemed Because It Felt Poemy

The seams of my being

had been bulging alarmingly for days,

but yesterday evening and today were such a relief.

I sent my thesis draft to my committee last night,

which I'm fairly convinced triggered a rush of endorphins,

(turning things in—a grad student's drug of choice).

It means a brief reprieve

(hm, there's poetry in those two words together, I think),

not from having to do things,

but from feeling anxious about them.

I looked at stars tonight

and breathed deep

and did not feel rushed.

My defense is two weeks from tomorrow,

and two weeks from tomorrow is gloriously finite—

two weeks is practically nothing.

After feeling for months that this dreadful thing

was going to go on forever,

it finally feels finite.
My soul is still tonight.