source

story of poem

the story of this poem is patient
we will call the poem “her” and close
our eyes, we will hold the poem open
tilt it toward a sea of willing stars,
trade ancient secrets with the poem
— the great engine of Earth, the first whisper,
who planted the cold seed of heartache,
all the how and whys we can muster —
there will be no answers to follow
only time. then
we will stroke the poem with all senses
hear her purr, feel her curl in our hands
we will know the poem and
we will remember the poem.