Your word choice left me cold. No hold, no kiss.

But it wasn’t your fault my reading was closed.

Spiky, wily, I pulled back from the tug of your lines.

Style could have grabbed me, but you went for subtle,

lost control. Nice try, poem, nice try. Maybe you’ll

sneak up on me later, and I’ll give you another go.

Sometimes a whisper plays true, but lately I only

catch a shout. Today, I’ve got to be startled out of

my indifference, stowed here in my office chair.

A poem has got to make me stand up or else.

I want to feel a little bit warmer. Maybe I’m

building a fire after finding you unassuming.

Disarming rebel, old friend, poem.  Now as I

lean in, you sound like the bang of a glass on the bar.


Yvonne Morris

Yvonne Morris is the author of Mother was a Sweater Girl (The Heartland Review Press, 2016). Her poetry has been published in a variety of journals, including The Lake, The Galway Review, and The Bengaluru Review. In 2019, she was featured as a Poet of the Week on The Poetry Super Highway website. She teaches and tutors at a community college.

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