An awkward poem

 
I start
and
then
I stop,
but…
in the midst
of
        those
short moments

there’s a rhythmic pacing
that carries the pen
along the page, leaving
me somewhere else;
never quite where
I sit.

Then,
a pause
…
as the women of the past,
the drunken escapades
and my family
cascade for mention.
I shun them
all
and carry on
writing
this awkward
poem
about
an awkward time
At an awk
ward pa
ce.