A Way of Seeing What Counts

1.

You left me alone,
in solitude, by
myself.  You said
that poetry said,
maybe even meant,
something, that it
was closer to sex
than the Sears Tower.
You actually read it.
Your eyes escaped from
the prison of what you
couldn't believe.

2.

You called poetry
"thunder," although
much of it, like mine,
wasn't descriptive at
all:  it said only what
it said.