the poet

as my four

fingers braced her

spine she spoke

to me in

the most poetic

tongue, each word

carefully crafted, line

for line in

between rows and

rows of onlookers,

poets and novelist

standing side by

side embracing their

titles with prestige

and pride, and

as i thumb

through her pages

of desire, i

find myself silently

searching for her

soul, silently approaching,

her afro, her

lingo, the grand

portico.

-e.