I Find Poetry?
by Francine DuBois
for Ted Winchester
He could stop looking in the stream.
He claims that he's watching fish,
But, as usual, he fails to "get deep,"
To see the bed beneath the water,
To see anything beyond his reflection.
How appropriate that he'd see himself
In a crow's eye, darkness reflected in black,
Brooding human meets brooding animal,
And both get marked as devil, scavenger,
Trashmonger, one who feeds off the dead.
He could try living for once, not that
Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
The stream and crows aren't, but they
Aren't human. His inability to explore
The mind of a man, much less a woman,
Traps him under those rocks that fascinate him.
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