In poetry I'll exorcise the past,
as there are spirits there
best held between the lines
and pressed by hand
into the dilute brew of fact,
myth and belief

As the page turns
and my story unfolds,
I stand in the present
precariously balanced
between the yeast of the past
and a future still forming
in my mind

Distilling what's been gleaned
from the wheat and hops
learned and unlearned,
the future bubbles and churns
aging in oak barrels but
time is required for fermentation

Just partake of what tidbits
you will with a crust of bread
to absorb the intoxication
that feeds your thirst
and please, a grain of salt

For these are only crumbs
of who I am and who
I am becoming,
offered in faith at this meal
prepared from a menu
I've invited you to taste

Esteemed guest, perhaps
I can't satisfy your hunger
but I've appeased mine
I'm content and honored
just to have you at my table
as I clear the plate

(c) Linda Gayton 2006