If you were my poet
you would be my guide--
you would make something vast of the universe.
Out of the vastness,
you'd gift me my mind
transfigured to a Valentine.
You'd cut the sick corners
of the pink paper
and end with a heart.
If I were your poet
I would not write much
Not while the words are bitter
and the edges rough
Instead I'd keep your briefcase on my lap,
run your errands, be the knight
with the lady's favor
and cough out a few sputters here and there,
poems that are not poems--like this--
reminders of poetry
like walking rehab after broken bones-
"It used to be so easy--have you a task for me, my lady?"
Share
Print
Save
EDWIN
Be always safe,
Karen
Christine, this is well-written poetry with your stamp of ownership that you posted because it cannot be cut away without leaving an obvious incision. It's therapy for mind, body and soul. Cutting Valentines was greatly worth waiting for! It's been years since you've posted here on AD and it's so good to have you back. I hope to see more of your work on these pages. This poem illustrates a relationship with another, the damage done when torn into a life behind private walls, and displayed now in a public domain. Pull out some more of these from your briefcase. Be well...
Love,
Sage