After reading

After reading Meridian by Kathleen Jesme

Paper is easier to find (back of a sales slip, the blank end sheet
in the book itself ) than a pen.                                      The absence
of a pen,
the lost thought.                  My homage to this lean volume ─
how could it have been read (without response)?

How to explain: I don’t love you, I love this.           (And what is an explanation
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxgood for anyway?)

I tell my grandson (who asks: Is that a poem you are writing?):    I
am now married
to poetry.          I cannot deny it.                (Yes, married, like maman and papa.)  

We argue and cling,
separate and crouch,
betray and mend,
before this temple of our own making.                                           He climbs trees

while I swallow these poems whole. And admit (to my grandson, to myself)

that this
is an all or nothing venture.
Without it I would die,
just like growing is all this boy can do

while I prepare my garden
and he says,  I wrote a poem once
to comfort me.


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One Response to After reading

  1. Deborah Helm says:

    Love this

    Sent from my iPad

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