In Spiral

If inspiration was a flat
colorful roll of paper,
I'd press it,
then punch holes in it,
shred it to pieces,
cut it up into bits,
and put it in a cannon.

Then on the days
that are mulled
and terribly dull,
I'd take it out
and shower you
with what I saved
as confetti.

We could sit
and commiserate
how the long sheet
of colored paper
came to be
as we sift through
the tiny piles
of hope.