Letter at Four in the Morning
I bought a twenty-year-old quarterly
Just because one of your poems was in it.
A poem I had never seen before.
I miss you, absent friend, lively and beautiful.
Small slender frame and acorn-brown eyes
Electric with perceptive energies.
You survived the evil of early violations.
You married happily, raised a child to adulthood.
You're still teaching college, I imagine.
I have to confess. Not only was I a fan
Of your poetry, but I had such a crush!
I stood stunned to the core with admiration
Of the risks you took in poems, your life-and-death
Urgency to cast out the myriad demons
With fierce candour, sharp phrasing, living images.
I haven't heard from you in more than a year.
Neither has anyone else from our old group.
I've saved all of your poems from our days
In the workshop. Those hope-filled healing days.
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas
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Written on 2018-10-30 at 01:52
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