Sense of Self

Sweet soft rhymes rhythmic against ears so eager

Eat every word with sweet salivating stealth

Poems provoke pieces of me

Hanging on the quatrain I quiver through questions of who I am

But in each alliteration I arise 

and am emphasized at the edge of a

river, my feet dipping in the free verse

the rest are refrains, they repeat, they continue 

Each evening they ask for an elegy 

Wanting me to waver against what winds the world sends.

Slowly I turned each simile into a smile and I say

I am not hiding behind a haiku, 

I am an epic.

I am eternal. 

I too will be eaten by english teachers for 

eons after I am turned to ashes

and precisely this way the poetry taught me to love myself. 

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