After the Anthology of Contemporary World Poets

I am nearly done now with the poets of the world.
I never did wear envy well, better to throw it down.
What have they to offer me, offend me with?
Taking me to places I have never been,
Wars I have never fought,
Bodies I have never loved.
I never even knew a cat that well,
His perfect indifference making him at home.
Though I did once love a dog.
How can my telling of it make that kind of difference?

The bodies I loved never had time for me.
The ones that loved me made me afraid.
What did they want?
What if they should know all my imperfections?
The fear is universal.
How can my terlling of it make that kind of difference?

The wars I fought were not of this world,
But on the plane beyond.
I understood that early on.
The Holy Bible plainly names the victor.
How can my telling of it make that kind of difference?

When people go away, even for a short time,
They and those they left behind are changed.
I'd rather stay home. Even the market is a journey.
Travel makes me anxious.
How can my telling of it make that kind of difference?

I cannot take you places I have never been myself,
or make you believe in battles I have never seen,
or yearn for bodies I have never known.
Why do I waste your time with it?
Turn the page and move on.
Leave me to put down my pencil in peace,
In peace.



Poetry by Kathryn Watson
Read 855 times
Written on 2007-03-23 at 19:06

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Terry Gresham
Again this is top shelf stuff. Content is exceptional.
2007-03-24