Stephen Fuller *** Poetry, Essays

And sat down beside her… )a poem(

Poets, call themselves

Honest. Viewers. Observers.

Watchers, Poets are.

 

They give meaning to Miss Spider who scares

The curds out of Muffet, who runs away

From her tuffet into the arms of Prince

Charming him from the Tasks he’s called to do

Right there, that last line breaks down the whole pro-

ject. Princes

 

          Never so

          Important a thing

          Do they do that Muffet

          Cannot steal a moment. No wonder!

          Princes always win.  I have important Things

         

To DO.

 

Poet, so do you, spinning metaphor

Out of shimmering filament, stronger

Than our words. Stickier, too. Poet walked

Through a web by accident and met a

Sailor called to clean bilges that fill up

Every time he wipes them to keep rust dry.

 

          Instead, let’s

          Lie back on this checked

          Blanket, Poet, and let me

          Act like an ant and crawl all over

          Your picnic. We have important things to do.

(C) 2021 Stephen Fuller

6 Responses to “And sat down beside her… )a poem(”

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