A Riddle


It.
It starts with a sound,
or a feeling —
Never an idea;
But the thoughts roll and unfurl
Slowly with the rhythm of the piece
Until
Lolling outwards
It trips and tumbles. //
Twenty-two lines.
That’s all it takes to make a poem. //
Five. //
What kind of experiment
Begins
and ends
with it?
A candied glass.
Beads of memories.
Tongue upon teeth upon tip of the palate.
Never ending.
It
Is.

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