The Chinese Wallet
My friend tells me how she knows
when her poems are good:
“I have a silk Chinese wallet decorated
cranes and pink blossoms, and a flap ” she says.
Her hands turn over the flap in the air.
“I write my my poems on yellow legal pad, double spaced.
When I am done I fold them in half and in half again”
Her hands float one over the other indicating the poem’s
dive into their silk resting place.
“I let them sit there until I think it’s
time to look at them again. Then
I take them out to see if they are
still as good as
I remember them”
Her hands soar down then up
retrieving the sleeping pages
from their nesting place.
“Then I take them out and reread
them to see if they still make sense,”
she goes on to explain.
“If they still make sense,
after all that
they are good poems.”
Her hands fall open
Now I understand!
Embroidered birds and
incantations transform words
as they sleep.
This I must believe
for Kit by Carol Carlisle
Poet’s Pub suggest writing a poem about poetry and I have had this one hidden away for quit a while, now seemed a good time retrieve it from it’s nesting place.