by Lisa Huddleston

IN MY DAUGHTER’S CAR

 

Scraps of verse

lie on dirty

floorboards

 

The lyrics of life

arrive in awkward

places

 

Unexpected

so keep your pencil

sharp

 

Any scrap

is fair game

for a scribble

or two

 

Pieces of truth

crumpled on the floor

to await the redemption

of song

or the garbage bag