Poem
Visiting Peter
by Andrew Taylor •
i.m. Peter Porter
I should have seen
all those words crowded at the door
of Peter’s apartment
when I stayed with him –
so many jostling verbs
outstretched adjectives
and nervy adverbs all
rubbing shoulders with those little
ands and buts and ors, etc.
But I didn’t. His shepherding voice
and kind manner ushered me
past them. They were there
as usual, but for another time
when he could invite them in
– his customary friends – undistracted
by visitors, so they could roam
and explore, until with patience
and a home-made miracle
their jostle would subside
and they would converse with him
and later, on the page
with us.
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