How could you not know? about
prisons, when we’ve met behind the bars of several,
brought books in, and denied that mere walls
should enslave us..?
Dear, I saw the covering over your head, the stain
of inherited guilt seeping through the cloth.
Love, I once saw the light falling flat
on your shoulders, your eyes weeping against the glare.
Friend, I heard how you dropped to the Post Office
steps, dying right on them, a heart attack,
no one helped.
Our elder author, lady with
the lilt still when she reads, she says poetry
will save the world. I have my doubts. But
hope. As you hope also.
So how can you not see that the pettiness
of blind ego drags us to a page of broken prose,
tramples the beautiful words into bitterness.
Come, be a safeguard now, frisk me, making sure
I carry no arms. Sit with me here
and we shall write lines so diaphanous and proud
they’ll hold the very air in place.