Poet Didn't Know It

The MFA program has immersed me in poetry. I'm looking at myself in the mirror as a poet, the geometry of my face, the hair-like-feathers that dangle from atop my head. My square shoulders say it. They've said it all along, but despite my big, round ears, I didn't listen. I never listen until after the second, third, fourth opinions have spoken. I am a poet.

This is a man that speaks in broken sentences. Words enjambed, pieced together like a mosaic; and sometimes they make sense. His face will line the inside cover of a book someday- I see it.