C L A U D I A S E R E A
You made me write bad poetry for years
You must stick your head in the oven,
and fake your own death
in every poem,
that critic said.
Honey, you have to open a vein
with your pen
every time.
But I couldn't help it.
I was young
and had a breeze for heart.
I was a bright green leaf
in your arms.
Light passed through my flesh
and refracted
translucent emotions.
I wrote about birds taking flight.
Gosh, white horses,
and poplars with eyes.
For years, I wrote
about being blind.
_______________
Claudia Serea
Nothing Important Happened Today
Broadstone 2016
