Poem 24. XO.

By Edith Hope Bishop, December 2019

I would be a poet
if you’d have me.
I would be your poet.
If you discovered, for example,
on your way out,
that you’d lost a word-
fallen from your pocket
slipped from your grasp-
I’d stitch you a new one.
Handing it to you-
I’d let my touch linger-
let our eyes meet-
and that night, while you slept,
I’d write you again
in soft December sun
and every blue the sea knows
and come morning
you’d have me again-
slipped under your door-
an unsealed envelope.


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