Heather Ambler is an eighteen-year-old community college student. She writes poetry mostly at night, and especially after midnight. She enjoys being the last person awake in her neighborhood in Worcester, MA. Her voice is most clearly heard when nobody is there to hear it. Although she plans on becoming a math teacher, it is only because she wants to keep writing as a hobby. She doesn't want to get tired of writing, and she doesn't want to have to cater her words to conform with what the world thinks is good.

Monday's Poem

© Heather Ambler

Where Poetry Comes From

palm spread on dirty glass and
reaching for the other side—
for the poem

but poems don't walk
don't swim through glass
they drip like sweat from frozen fingers

someone says, take words
braid them; make a rope;
call it poetry
and hide

poems aren't meant for
social conversation

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