Birth of a Poet

 

her name Hysteria
she cried a gutter of tears
in search of a rhythm
that meant something
a moral making
her soul a crust of dilapidation
her nights
tears and terrors
days nocturnal
stirring dreams
of dark shimmering
and charmed ruins
lumined
in her ferned cove heart

her soul
a sun stuck cathedral
a great baroque opera

this mouth a plugged shadow
a dammed dark pool

so she talked with her fingers
the birth of a poet