I was tapping my fingers, reading. She
sure can write, that girl! Me,
I have to say a thing or two to put distance between
the opening part,
and what I really secretly mean. But
she just puts it in: right open,
up front, and all through
- you keep tripping
gaily over jam packed gems
and the good stuff. Jack
Horner would have been like, "This pie's
all plums!"
2 comments:
There is so much that works in this poem that I really don't know what to say about it. I just felt it deserved a comment.
Thanks!
What a heartbreaking thing. I can't recall whose writing this is about. Why didn't I put it in the title?
Also, I've gotten better at secretly meaning nothing. Or openly meaning secrets? Or just not having any. If in fact that was even a problem at that date! I suspect it wasn't, and that I was just gunning for contrast for the sake of the poem.
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