Within the Sharing
If we’re fortunate, or blessed—
I would never call it lucky—
The poem will leave us,
Ownership claimed by others.
The process is often called “sharing,”
And the word is used in such matter-of-fact fashion,
such nonchalance,
As if it’s just the easiest thing in the world
For the poet to let the page slip out of his grasp
And into that of another.
That’s the reason it was written,
Goes the reasoning;
Why else would a person choose
To string words together
If not to share them?
Isn’t it within the sharing that
The poem fully comes to life?
Good points all,
but sometimes the writer is selfish
and wants the words for his own.
He knows that much of the potential benefit lies
Away from him, and
He distracts his mind long enough
To let the words go there,
Not overly pleased with that part of him
That wishes the words never left.
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