TELEPATHY
September [4] 2008
(Poem)
I’d rather suffer in poem
than sit in the pain of this wheel.
I seem to lead and pace
a pattern of self-disgrace,
the miracle (or malady?)
of power–
here we meet again,
at the perfect moment unaware,
is it I or you who reads minds?
I know where and when
you’ll be there
sponge-clean sweet,
know how happy and frightened
you are to see me,
know the paralysis
that makes my stumbling attempts…
poignant,
at least to me,
know the promises
you will never enact,
know the love
that will never be.
(1986)