28 July 2022

The Master Key

The poem as time, arrested — a moment‘s wings

fluttering in the glass jar.

The poem as nuclear fusion, an explosion of

the infinitesimal, its ultimate energy.

The poem as window to the whole,

cracked just enough to let the light in so.

The poem as blossoming, which is to say,

an insistence on living with every danger.

The poem reveals to me — the moment —

I did not know it then,

but this was the master key.

Did I seek the poem, or did the poem seek me?

Did I embark on adventure, or did the poem

move me towards adventure’s awakening?

But the poem chastises— she does not need me,

or you, she has no causation and no subject,

no use for the machinations of the mind.

The poem dances in its own totality —

I did not know it then,

but this was the master key.