Poetry- To the Reader of this Poem

To The Reader Of This Poem

I imagine you
perhaps reclined,
on a couch or a bed, a bench perhaps,
though best in a hammock,
where the poem is used like a good herb,
to season
the conversation of birds, or the first blooms of Spring.
I imagine you reclined, for poems are best received
as plants receive rain
or sunlight.
You cannot chase a poem, or hunt it
as you would a deer.
Some say you can chase love, or that you must,
but I think that’s just foolery.  With love
you cannot take
what must be given.  And so it is with a poem.
So I imagine you reclined.

And it would be nice
if you were interested in listening.  The kind
where you exit
the drumming of blood.  Such as a grandparent does,
who seems
to have nothing better, absolutely nothing better to do
than listen to the ramblings of a child in a swing.  Until
the creaking of a swing, or the chatter of a child
rises into the air undivorced.

Yes, you should be that way.  So that, listening,
you’ll reach the end of the poem, carried in its arms,
as if waking from a dream
you did not know you were having.  You’ll wonder
if you’ve  been dreaming at all, or just remembering, and you’ll say
“What was that poem all about?”