HOW POEMS ARE MADE/A DISCREDITED VIEW By Alice Walker
Letting go In order to hold one I gradually understand How poems are made. There is a place the fear must go. There is a place the choice must go. There is a place the loss must go. The leftover love. The love that spills out Of the too full cup And runs and hides Its too full self In shame. I gradually comprehend How poems are made. To the upbeat flight of memories. The flagged beats of the running Heart. I understand how poems are made. They are the tears That season the smile. The stiff-neck laughter That crowds the throat. The leftover love. I know how poems are made. There is a place the loss must go. There is a place the gain must go. The leftover love.
