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Poem

sylvia

***this concerns several books I once owned.
Some were written by Rod McKuen, others by
Richard Brautigan, others by others…***

i discovered that words are  
like some decadent dessert
too small to cause harm but too big 
to have a second helping

in the margins of tattered books
were scribbled lines i hoped to someday share
with someone who still had tears in her eyes
from last night’s disappointment

for years i had filled my bible margins 
with illegible scribbling
some printed words i had crossed out and rewritten
but never those of rod mckuen
or the bible

today i grew older simply by watching 
days roll in like a warm ocean breeze 

waves taste the sand so slowly
and so it is with rod mckuen
but he was going nowhere 
in his rush to cross over some
imaginary line of demarcation 

i once owned many books
hundreds aligned to make room to make room 
imaginary for new things to be pushed aside

i’m still yearning for a phone booth 
where i can make a call for two bits   

i’ll always wonder if maybe
i had called sylvia plath if she would have answered
there was no need
her answer had already preceded the question


© tolbert

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