The Elements of Style

Words formless and without
substance that gift of perception
given by the author when placed
just so the reader, those from who
we beg and plead, on our knees
on our knees waiting
for the light to come on.

Molding stanzas now and again
pinching, caressing, pulling
forcing that etherial idea
down into the atmosphere
like a giant hot air balloon
that has lost it's sand bags.

Gathering stanzas to place in
perfect time and rhyme
reminds me of that pimply faced boy
at the pet store
The one who carries the miniature net
and chases rainbow fish for six thirty-five
an hour or a day or a month
can bring a poem if I simply
sit and sift and patiently knit one
pearl two, just like Grandma
in her house coat waiting
for the light to come on.



For Lindsey