My first poem

I don’t remember

when I first fell in love

with poetry.

Every grade had poetry;

every year we wrote

a poem. 

              Or two.

But there was never a moment

when poetry stood up and

announced itself to me.

                                      Or two.

 

I do remember,

however, discovering

e. e. cummings—

for the first time

poetry seemed playful,

or that t(here was a mystery)

to be discovered;

that language was

a puzzle

to be put together

and taken apart

to be put together.

Even now,

he and Donne remain

my favourite sonneteers.

Sonneticists? Sonneticians?

(O! no disrespect

  to Shakespeare

                           intended)

 

Remember:

to fall in love with poetry

requires you to keep reading

poetry, to remember words,

ways to shape them—

to sow poems like seeds,

to perhaps hand them

to a loved one,

or a stranger.