We're nearing the end of April, the end of poetry month. I'm feeling sad already. Thanks for reading my words. I will never know all the voices that stayed long enough for me to jot things down-- all those voices that spoke through me this month already. But somewhere in the words that precede me, I know that at least one voice carried my soul. And I hope at least one squeezed your heart. Let me know which one, please. Here's my confession: