Nobody reads poetry anymore
Not really
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An assigned selection here
A referenced snippet there
Of story and
Truth and
fantasy tellers
from years long
long
long
gone
Nobody reads poetry
anymore
Not really
which makes it
so very tempting
and easy
and freeing
to pour everything out
line by
line
over time
A couplet here
A stanza there
Truth wrapped up in letters and
Unleashed in barely controlled torrents of telling riddles
It is safe to do
Safe to be
Allow
Place
Pour
Lie down
All the things
that would remain
unspoken
unclear
untended
No one reads poetry anymore
Not really
Yet some
still
Dream and
wish and
hope and
think and
write
it
anyway
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