He asks me how I grow my poetry
I stare at the boy: such a beauty
So much talent and so sincere
Byronic curls favoring his brow
Nonplussed, I say: I do this to stay alive
My words sound disingenuous
My eyes are held askance
My cantilevered mouth and jaw
Careen head-long against
My full body protest
My rigid body dismay
Incredulous, I say:
I know not where it grows
Have stiffened at all the flavors
And lost my sense of taste
Alone by the pool I must stay
And that is all I know
Any reflection could be my last.