faithfully jeopardizing
meaningless laughter when'er
the poet walks the high wire
of poetical wordplay
looking down at his chaotic lines
hoping those who actually read them
can absorb
each and every carefully thought out rhyme
and when he climbs back up on that high wire
trying to balance
free verse, breaking lines perfectly
as to make sense and show continuity
there's a hesitant shuddering gasp
as he measures the tempo with a slight of word dexterity
and other elevated climatic wishes
because secretly, and most secretly at that
the poet has written certain passages
for the one he loves
though never has he declared this love
the poet knows she is aware of his foolish desire
will she brazenly taut certain weak lines
as not being hip enough
and if she will be so crass to do so will
the poet
press forward and begin his dangerous and perilous
ascent into the stratosphere
of his art
his everlasting art aiming a shot across the bow
of her observable charms
will he, or will he not
find the words which are eternally hers to receive
or will the spreadeagle of buffoonery
be his comeuppance after all

©April 3, 2019 / Jerry Pat Bolton