Anatomy of a poem

(1/6)
one runaway thought

straitjacketed
into acceptance

every line
less honest
than the one before it

(2/6)
how can I write a poem

greater than
the sum of its parts

unless the unsaid
is also a part —
the biggest part

(3/6)
learning poetry

from the
summer moon

bright and scarred
on one side
the dark hidden, hidden

(4/6)
I remember I once wrote

about a flowery meadow
alive in dappled light

I have never been
to that land, never seen
a damn daffodil

(5/6)
whatever the waves brought in

someone’s marble, someone’s shoe
a broken shell, a broken bone

all you think you know about the sea
you learnt from things
it did not keep for itself

(6/6)
let’s make it easier

I’ll write a poem about you
you write one about me

there are so many words
to describe
someone else’s life