Regular Poem: Poem Swap

2 Nov

Sometimes–as a thought exercise–
I imagine what
a poem he might write about me
might look like,
sound like,
feel like.

(He writes poetry, too,
but I’m not sure how many
whiskeys and old country songs
have to be involved
in the process.)

How might I appear
as a protagonist–
or perhaps
antagonist–
in his penmanship,
scrawled on a half sheet
of legal pad
whose top half contains a checklist
of medications he’s taken already
today?

“Your memory is short,
and your feelings are shallow.
A house is more than a house,
even if left for seasons fallow.”

(His poetry often rhymes.)

Would he write
about me
or about himself
through me?

Would I be
as I am
or as I should be?

Would it be so
laced through with
strings of metaphors
so dense
that no one would see me?

It’s a silly thought exercise.
I could just ask him.

But then that would
become a different
type of thought exercise–
an interrogation,
a call-and-response song,
a riddle
wrapped in inefficiency.

That would be his thought exercise,
not mine.

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