It has been laid down
that poetry must be serious,
concerned with eternals
of love, truth and death;
and perhaps it is so,
if the right eyes and hands
can shape these matters
into good lines and music;
but I’m also convinced
it does quite acceptably
with reports of Tuesdays,
and trips to the grocery store,
of walks up the aisle
looking at carrots and apples,
thinking about those I love
and what they’d like to eat.
No comments:
Post a Comment