Her e-mail inbox always overflows.   
Her outbox doesn’t get much use at all.   
She puts on hold the umpteen-billionth call   
As music oozes forth to placate those   
Who wait, then disconnect. Outside, wind blows,   
Scything pale leaves. She sees a sparrow fall   
Fluttering to a claw-catch on a wall.   
Will He be in today? God only knows.   

She hasn’t seen His face—He’s so aloof.   
She’s long resigned He’ll never know or love her   
But still can wish there were some call, some proof   
That He requires a greater service of her.   
Fingers of rain now drum upon the roof,   
Coming from somewhere, somewhere far above her.   

Poet Bio

What People are Saying

"I did not expect to fall in love with poetry. I just expected to recite and be done with it. After just sitting there and analyzing my poems, I realized that the stories told through these few words mean so much. I had to step out of myself and step into the author's shoes, and with that comes great work."
Kyla Rose Bates
2016 LA POL Champion