Advice to a poet

Try reading the words on the page as though they were

the life you have forgotten. Clouds move past the sun

and it’s not because I’m still angry, or because I haven’t had a drink.

You probably don’t remember learning how to talk

to a listener who is both you and not you.

Try reading these words as though they were meant to be spoken aloud

room window garden street

            baby city morning sun

                        books coffee toast eggs

Enough of that talk. Imagine a reader you can trust.

Now imagine a writer you can’t trust.

She’d give you something to eat and a cup of tea

listen to everything you had to say,

how awful it is at home, rolling out her pastries, 

nodding, murmuring, not writing anything down,

not one word. Who knows what she thinks of you.