Not feeling very creative, so I went to old April poems and took the third line from a bunch of them and this happened:
LINE THREE, 2013
Coated with wax and buried,
I have the power to heal others.
I’ve only just learned to be
driven to and fro by words and noise.
Don’t come lugging that bag.
My mind is a jumper of passion and power—
not bad for a woman my age.
My hair, my fingertips
are ready with yellow flowers,
clouds in their colors: yellow, purple, blue, gray.
I found another wad of wax under my armrest.
I contain you.