NAOMI SHIHAB NYE

Do you google your own name?

Yes if you found this.

You and I have been on the bus together

going to work together

on my bike riding fast together.

Your wooden spoon words have stirred alphabet spaghettios

from deep in my stomach and served them to lined paper.

I’m up typing at three in the morning and you’re right next to me

keeping me company like a jelly jar of tea

puffing sleepy dragon steam into a sub fifty-five degree bedroom.

 

I’ve met the word versions of you and I really like them

even in Times New Roman’s common place appearance.

I wonder what the person part of you is like.

Does your physical prescense in a giant room fill it?

Like a half page poem shouting a full page purpose to my eyes

although the space it occupies appears to be very little.

Would I catch some wisdom if we shared a drink?

Or would you be Motherly towards me 

because earth has spun a few times more under your feet

and tell me that alcohol leads to nothing good. 

Would we sing a song we both know or make one up?

Would I plant roses in my rented lawn and carefully tend to them

with water for poem seeds and clippers for editing?

Do you still type at three-in-the-morning? How about letters?

*March 09’*

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Filed under Poetry, Prose, Rambling

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