what does it mean to be
doing poets’ work?
and how do you know
when the work is done?
are there fan clubs?
will there be letters
with dried flowers,
perfumes, gift cards?
assuming only those moved
will put in the effort
to reach out, how safe
are these communications?
i want to tell you each poem
is the result of you
listening
to the voice beneath the
voice
nestling in your ear.
go ahead and buy the book.
you can tear out all the
poems
you love, and all the one
you hate.
fold them up and put them in
your pockets.
then forget you put them
there.
let them surprise you some
morning
making new shapes, unbidden,
binding us together with
secrets.
become so full of words
they spill onto the floor
until you are emptied of
words
and able to be still.
