Thursday, October 9, 2014

Headline Poem 10/9/14 -- I will write you because you ask

I will write you because you ask 

Your story keeps coming, taping
  me on the shoulder
following  
  me in my dreams. 

You knock on the front door, 
and my dogs bark as I try 
to ignore -- 
I peek out the window 
because I'm not prepared 
 for the company. 
I'm not ready, but you are. 

And so like a humble farmer, I dig. 
And like a naked maid, I scurry 
to dress 
before my mistress rises. 
I know once dawn comes,
she will keep me occupied until 
another morning
with cold coffee-filled mugs 
and half eaten chips, 
grapes and scraps of paper 
scattered. 

I wrote before, and although I shared,
I didn't listen as much as I spoke. 
I edited the ugly. 
I feared the confrontational. 
I sheltered.  
I prevented 
connections 
that deserve to be made,
but in all fairness,
they were not yet made. 

This time I will 
watch. 
I will listen. 
I will plot. 

You  have     much to learn, 
and I will oblige, 
but writing about you 
will be the most selfish 
thing I do.