poemetry

2021-5-30

at least the books i read
do me the grace
of allowing that,
while quite doable
(otherwise: why write the book?)
it isn’t easy
to stop
not being me
(that me,
the one i demand to deny
even exists)
and to become
me
(yes, that one).
breath by breath,
they write,
using many more words
simply to make the point.
it is,
after all,
what they’ve learned
from their science,
and i believe their science
(i am not stupid),
and i believe their words
their warnings
their confidence
their trust in me,
in sharing this precious part
of their own lives
with me.
i know what they say
is true
but the trouble, of course,
is that i’m the one
doing the breathing.

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