POEMS


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Love

1.

Love came to the door one day
demanding to be let in.

He folded his arms like a man.
I crossed my legs like a woman.

What do you want from me? he asked.

I said, I want you to open your arms.
He said, I want you to open your legs.

So we did.

   

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  • Disclaimer

    Please do not assume that I am the speaker/ subject of my poems.

    In these times of creative nonfiction and fictionalized memoirs, I think of the poem itself as true fiction: it is most likely not factual, but it must be true.

    It is likely to be -- it is best if it is -- a truth I did not know before I wrote, and may not understand even then.

    A poem is my way of discovering (dis-covering) what I feel; sometimes, what I think -- but it is not necessarily biographical.


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