A Poem

Sometimes,

it’s not enough

to write a poem.

……………………………………….

“Feel it on your back,”

she told me

from the church cellar.

 

“Know it by name,”

he whispered

through the garden;

he chased the snake

but only I could tell.

 

“Let it loose,”

she sang,

leading the students to the edge,

bird cage in hand,

lowering her fingers to the door.

 

Sometimes,

it’s not enough

to listen to a poem.

…………………………………………
“Jump into the sea!”

he screams to me,

head rolling with a laughter

children know at dawn,

no midnight mass approaching.

 

“Hold onto your hat!”

she begs of me

on the local F train,

subway cars dashing past

and claiming my wear with it.

 

“Don’t open your eyes!”

states the man

sitting on his box, NW side,

poking the sidewalk

with a stick,

just as he has

every Wednesday I have seen him,

handed him a banana and ran.

 
Sometimes,

being the poem

is not enough.

……………………………………..
“Open the box

dear-

and, of course,

open your eyes…”

 

October 3, 2015

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