I Met a Poet Made Manifest Last Night

I met a poet made manifest last night
by midnight’s sleepy eyes,
when we forgot not to be ourselves
and asked forbidden questions
to hear the answers from long-time ghosts.

He was in full sorrow,
but, escapingly, more beautiful than weariness.
Each time his eyes grew sad, I wished—
or he laughed blithely at his own quip—
that I was his Bright Star, shining aloft,
not in lone splendour, but
in his always reaching arms.

Share your thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s