Saturday, June 2, 2012

Beware the poet

I hide here
Behind this line
This period
This exclamation point
A scared child
Exerting imagination
Painting pictures
With bruised fingers
Smudges telling the world
I am here,
The child whose heart bled
For five and half decades
Over some silly incident at five
A snatched peach
A tumble from a stair
A mother’s refusal to reach
Beyond the bars of her
Hospital room,
She still sounded from a father
Brother, husband, me
Whispers of unutterable things
She can’t even reveal in rime
And I give away in snatches
Between each couplet or verse
Not meaning to hurt
But always managing it
Between the poet bearing
Sweet poems
Beware his charms.

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