Focus

I like you in this desperation.
Tears streaming down your face,
Anxious and whiney at my every move.
Not wanting to be anywhere without me.
Clinging to just a miniscule amount of attention.
The focus of my love,
The pinnacle of my creation,
I want you nearby.
But son, you need to learn to walk in the wilderness.
In the wild, I am there lurking behind and before,
Watching everything for you.


Every morning, Kris Green stumbles to the coffeemaker before bleary eyes focus on an open file. It’s the easiest time to write in his lovely Florida home filled with his wife, clamorous three-year-old son and chatty one-year-old daughter.
Some might assume he has a problem, never letting a day go without writing. Hemingway called it bleeding. Wesley called it setting himself on fire. He prefers to think of it as just one of many things he does to preserve his sanity.
He’s been published by excellent people such as Nifty Lit, The Haberdasher: Peddlers of Literary Art, Barbar Literary Magazine, In Parentheses Magazine, Route 7 Review, and many more. Last year, he’s had over a dozen short stories published as well as half a dozen poems.

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