I’d like every girl in the world to have a poem of her own
I’ve written for her I don’t even want to make love to them all anymore
just write things your body makes me delirious your face enchants me
you are a wonder of soul spirit intelligence one for every one
and then the men I don’t care whether I can still beat them all
them to a poem for them how many?
seeing you go through woods like part of the woods seeing you play piano
seeing you hold your child in your tender devastating hands
and of course the children too little poems they could sing or dance to
this is our jumping game this our seeing game our holding each other
even the presidents with all their death the congressmen and judges
I’d give them something
they would hold awed to their chests as their proudest life thing
somebody walking along a road where there’s no city would look up
and see his poem coming down like a feather out of nowhere
or on the assembly line new instructions a voice sweet as lunchtime
or she would turn over a stone by the fire and if she couldn’t read
it would sing to her in her body
listen! everyone! you have your own poem now
it’s yours as much as your heart as much as your own life is
you can do things to it shine it iron it dress it in doll clothes
o men! o people! please stop how it’s happening now please
I’m working as fast as I can I can’t stop to use periods
sometimes I draw straight lines on the page because the words
are too slow
I can only do one at a time don’t die first please
don’t give up and start crying or hating each other they’re coming
I’m hurrying be patient there’s still time isn’t there? isn’t there?