JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

my poem

takes more than a page

from birth to this meeting

 

a lady

with wavy hair

and a pencil

 

I fell in love with her

 

she waved her pencils

over my poem

and I became her lover, Galahad,

a man who has his say

and is listened to

respected

 

I became a flower

in her garden

she waters me every Friday

before lighting Sabbath candles

 

before we met

I could not decipher

my own signature

now the letters of our names

have intertwined

we sort them into words

and stanzas

 

I with my blunt fingers

she with her sharp pencils

together we borrow each other’s thoughts

and make them into songs, blessings