poems appear
Sometimes, what stirs me is an image
or a word grabs my hem
Some days, a longer jumble of syllables, a whole sentence pulses in my head.
I repeat it on my breath
carried
until I can lay that poem tenderly down on paper
shape-shifted from what it was to
some thing different
In between appear and written down,
What are you? Not a poem yet.
You are a whisper, a tickle at the neck, a treasure anticipated.
I hold you,
so I will not lose you
the same way as a child I clutched my
fingers closed over change for candy
or the candy
and after the walk home
I unclasped my fist for the treasure
words for a poem
or sweaty quarters or half-melted sweetness
Just so, you and I yesterday—five degrees outdoors
but blue sky brilliant sun
melted all it touched
five degrees outside
but so sunny we could listen to the once ice once snow
flow into another form
as we did together indoors
Puff Of Smoke Poems 