I am Dramatic

I swerve in cursive

like the signatures of colonial women

who gave birth to thousands

because it only takes a second to exist

and a moment to die

I type in distress

because I point forward

aligned with the arrow

of messages needing a response

I hang up the blood moon

to remind us of our kinship,

of annotations clotting

our preternatural bond.

This poem came from a prompt from my poetry group: Write a poem inspired by the theme that the act of writing is a matter of life or death.

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