Poem

 

 

 

You Ask Why I Write About Death and Poetry

 

 

There's entirety in eternity,

and in the pearly gates—the pages relate.

 

I fall prey to

       poetry,

 

have hated

       death.

 

You know, I've never understood reality,

            then try to relay it—tearily, irately—

            and I'm a liar yet.

 

But when I write about death and poetry,

            it's donated therapy

     where I converse with

Emily Dickinson, my inky misled icon.

 

And when my dream songs are demon's rags,

            I dust my manuscript in a manic spurt    

hoping the reader will reread

 

because I want the world

to pray for poets as we are only a story of paper.

 

 

 

 

Previously Published in 32 Poems

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