Unfinished

(for all poets who cannot stop revising) I am not finished I am never finished In the poet’s head I am kneaded indefinitely I am not finished often typed put in writing spread imaginary I am always one step ahead of the poet I am never finished forever young because the poet smooths my wrinkles forever and ever But am I finished when the poet is finished? Or do I get a legal guardian and an unwrinkled future?