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Poetry Foundation

Reading You Again
By Nordette N. Adams

Your poem is
shaped like a pregnant woman,
not the sound, feel, ache, and sprawl of it,
but the actual shape! Your line breaks, the enjamb-
ment, the funky physical twist of phrase from one point to
the next, carry a baby on the page visually. Did you mean that?
I don't believe you did. I think it's coincidental, but a poem should
be pregnant. By any means, it must carry a child, new life, the bulging
promise of. A poem should be barefoot, heavy with babies or at the least
virile like a man whose balls burst with potential. - This poem is round, fat
like the belly of a pregnant woman, but holds no promise. It is wide and emp-
ty like the mind of a reality TV producer or a con artist's heart.It is foolishly
whipped and crafted akin to a circle, alluding to things cyclical, like life. - The
Mystical Circle of Life. ... This poem plays on a July Sunday afternoon while
summer blasts outside my bedroom window. Its light creeps over the win-
dow sill, spills onto the dark wood floor, wanting to nourish as I ponder
the wild goofiness of your poem looking so pregnant. I keep dreaming
of you, the life I need. I wonder why we can't connect as we once
did. Our path is akin to a circle. You have gone ahead. It looks
like I follow. Maybe one day before you pass me by again,
you will stop, be overcome with missing, and see the
loneliness of my ready neck. You'll kiss the nape,
I will not judge the brush of your lips. And
we will know again how good
poetry feels.

© 2009 Nordette N. Adams

This poem may not be copied or reproduced without the author's permission.

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