Guest

a poem’s a delicate guest-
it flits in velvet at the window, steps
so lightly on your skin you hardly feel it
and the slightest breeze disturbs it, but
sometimes it finds the flower.

or think how two, arced lovers chase,
strenuously, one sweetness
glistening in the dark
but rarely catch, in knotted limbs, that prize-
it’s just like that, too.

but if it comes good, then no matter how
sad and drab the island
of your tower block washed by crowds
if you lift the page up to the lamp
and say it right, suddenly
it’s a seashell pressed to your ear,
and the ocean’s thunderous sighing
overflows your life
but turns out just to be your own heart beating.