closely at the spaces between the words
That is where meaning lies.
Open your mouth and
Speak the words that were put there
To be spoken,
Rip through the mute, intricate web
Silent canons weave.
This is where the poem comes to life.
A strange creature; if treated gently
It may be dissected and yet live.
Don’t chop and hack it into
Neatly labelling cuts of meat:
You are not a butcher.
A surgeon, arms deep in warm flesh
Dexterously discovering your way;
Gently, the breath of the beast-
The ins, the outs, the speed, the strength, the beat…
What is that?