Yesterday my poetry was an elephant in the room,
daring me to look
where I least wanted to.
Today my poetry is like a fish,
silver and slippery and quick,
taking in sharp gill-breaths of blue-green sea
and darting into the shadows,
almost indistinguishable from
a trick of the light.
Perhaps tomorrow my poetry will be a bear,
heavy and lumbering,
swiping swiftly in the shallows
to feast on today’s uncaptured words.
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