Dear novelist
Let me express my awe
Your ability to dive into
Fleshy soft unknown
A body to come home to at nite
Wake with each morning
I envy your base of continuity.
Tenacity is not for poets &
I do speak for myself
When tenaciousness is lack
I slip in melancholy muck
So each word squeezed is painful and
Every image eyeful
No lively description here I fear
Just recollection
Dear Novelist you stay with something
‘til it’s right and then
to understand
you fit your body whole
Protected second skin
Glove around
The poet walks into walls
Never comes home at nite
Sleeps with whom she wants
For a good line a soft bed
A place to hide
Then sacrifices all things good
For a word she would
For a life she would not
Never at home in her skin
Nervous & itching & hot
C’mon give her a scratch
With long nails
Slow strokes
Lively tales
You know you can
And that you want to
Or leave a bowl of milk
On the steps beside her things.
You with the long stories
Enough wood for this hearth
1 comment:
I didn't/haven't written a comment b/c I don't think I have worthy words to share...maybe these? The Dear Novelist series is precious to me.
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