Into the lion's jaws
Published
Topic
People
For Donald Gardner
His card states name, address, e-mail, website, and occupation.
Poet. Bold as medieval knight flaunting his banner
'I'm a poet,' he says, 'that's my profession'.
It terrifies me. Rejecting all respectability
(safe sheets and roast potatoes) ignoring the kudos
of university degrees, impressive letters after the name
(just 'poet') he leaps into the arena joyously
careless of lion's claw or jaw. Smiles coyly
at the crowds, quite confident.
So he'll entrance and audience, reading his work to them
performing with mild gestures.
I cease trembling as I begin to understand
what this is all about: silk threads through the air
syllables beaded on silence, and laughter at
the unexpected twist, and gates crashing down
for all the lions to leap free.
Hail poet. You who are about to die -
sing, shout, whisper, weep, as you go