My thoughts are a checkerboard of indecisive moves (a poem)

Taking a longer poem I wrote last month and giving it a severe editing…

I am so often allowed
to take what I need
that rejection is the only answer
I can envision

The cat is curled up
on the heating pad

I can’t be bothered
to make another cup
so I pour the rest
into the sink

An old TV show fails
to distract me
from what I need

The cat is stretched out
on the heating pad
unlikely to budge

It’s too late now
for coffee

(15 December 2017)