Saturday, September 29, 2007

Charles Simic

My Turn to Confess

A dog trying to write a poem on why he barks,

That's me, dear reader!

They were about to kick me out of the library

But I warned them,

My master is invisible and all-powerful.

Still, they kept dragging me out by the tail.

In the park the birds spoke freely of their own vexations.

On a bench, I saw an old woman

Cutting her white curly hair with imaginary scissors

While staring into a small pocket mirror.

I didn’t say anything then,

But that night I lay slumped on the floor

Chewing on a pencil

Sighing from time to time

‘Growling, too, at something out there

I could not bring myself to name.


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