Well, Miss Nelson
Do you feel anything
About this poem
Have you got something to say?
I said, Yes, Yes but…
I cannot find the words…
I see the muscles of your throat
Tight as violin strings
There the words might
Strangle you; take heed
And still maybe yet…
I could die of it
The words are always there now
Begin there
Keen low in my throat
Good and bad together
And sometimes there is not
A single metaphor
Or brave lonely image
The words of this language
Their sound and the gift of it