poet

yes, that’s my daughter. as a matter of fact
she often does sit in the corner by herself
like that. no she’s not special in that way.
but i would say quite unique. she has
a strange way about her. but more than anything
else you see, she makes pearls. yes, you know
those glossy white round things. fortunate?
i would hardly say so. poor child just can’t
seem to string them together.

________________________________

I remember
the evening that
I heard someone
say, I am a poet.
I bristled, was
indignant in fact.
Even though
she was indeed a poet.
I had her books.
Had read each one.
But how could she sit there
and just simply say yes,
I am a poet?