A Singing

A Singing 

Suppose the poetry monster left me
and ranged elsewhere to ravage and inspire,
I would be between bereft and relieved
lost  in daily life’s exoskeleton

The monster frees me as  it receives me,
deceives me, leads me on a merry chase
through the hinterlands of myself, places
remote and also too near to be seen

this monster, poetry, sings in …