With a tilted head and all starry-eyed,
he asked: “What happens after you fall?”
Without hesitation, nor surprise,
she said: “I am a poet after all.
I get back up, dust myself off,
and put the pen back in my hand.
I make the hard edits, block, and delete,
then get back up and make a stand.
I know whatever lies in front of me
simply could not be worse
than what I’ve already put behind me.
I write new prose verse by verse.”