[dVerse] June 25th — Ars Poetica with a Faulty Exit Door

A poem seldom arrive clean.It comes in through the windowwith dust on its knees,carrying one cracked cup,one unpaid bill,one mother’s voice pressedagainst the wrong side of a door.It rarely ask for a desk.It sits on the floorbeside the bodyand begins taking attendance.Here is the throat,still functioning as a checkpoint.Here is the stomach,refusing citizenship.Here is the girl under the desk,