Catching
by Joanna M.
Weston
each poem folded
separately
so that sonnet will not
infect limerick or haiku
case closed and locked
then away down the stairs
out the door to waiting cab
airport line-ups long
through security and customs
verses smuggled incognito
(dark glasses henna’d hair)
ready to contaminate
the ears of weary passengers
with poetry’s wild unease |
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