poetry.01

May as well begin with one about myself. The first of these was written about a picture of me; the second is my response to it.

Untitled, written by Rachel McCauley in response to a picture of me

I called her Gretchen

When I think of you, first I think of your autumn coloured sweater,

and then of Thailand, and how colourful it must be there.

And warm.

And I wonder that I was afraid of you,

and wonder what I know of you,

and I smile, because you said my poetry made you happy,

Like the smell of sharpie markers.

I want to ask some days

“Is that pain behind your eyes”

and “do you really think my poems are good”

and “do you think in poetry”

but mostly I want to know if you mind if I walk with you for awhile

You walk cold bridges

over icy water, through

shadows.  To where?

“Answering Gretchen”

I mostly think in poetry when I think of you

And yes I think your poems are good

And to think about what you wonder

And that I am afraid of me

As far as to what I know of me

The pain behind my eyes, you weren’t supposed to see

I am a medley of things to many different people

All under another name

To you, I’d like to still be that warm,

Colourful poet

That made you happy

And as to our walk together

Yes, I’d like that.

I cross cold bridges

over icy waters, through

shadows.  To where you ask?

To warm them, melt them, show them my light

.

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