Entrance

[Philatone]

V. 3 lots of edits; review Todd's comments for a comprehensive listing

Entrance

I was going to open
with how the words came to me
as if they were the gardener
and I the weed,
stalking the azaleas at noon;

but then I thought better
and searched instead
for the right definition:

to dig,
fettered to an old English accent,
or plunge,
with roots
nestled in a French countryside;

yet so many words waited
at my doorstep, some in ties and skirts,
some with smiling mothers,
others with postage on their forehead,

lingering in the windows
peaking above my collars
breaking into the bedroom
crawling through the outlets

when finally
I had it.

Let us begin
with a moment of silence.

Let us begin
with the breath before
the voice,

the pause
laid as a bridge
we have only begun
to cross.

V. 2

Entrance

I was going to open
with a story
of how the words came to me
as if they were the gardener
and I the weed,
stalking the azaleas at noon;

but then I thought better of it
and searched instead
for the right definition to share:

to dig,
fettered to an old English accent,
or plunge,
with roots
nestled in a French countryside;

yet so many words
waited at my doorstep,
some in ties and skirts,
some with smiling mothers,
others with postage on their forehead,
I decided to keep looking
for a way to begin,

lingering in the aisles
where introductions pushed grocery carts,
peaking above the collars
of poems in the library,
breaking into their bedrooms
with a screwdriver and notepad;

when finally, I heard enough
like a judge in a courtroom.

Let us begin
with a moment of silence.

No shells from the past,
no trudges through a dictionary's forest.

Let us begin
with the breath before
the voice,

the pause
laid as a bridge
we have only begun
to cross.


_____________________________________
Original

I was going to open
with a story
of how the words came to me
as if they were the gardener
and I the weed,
stalking the azaleas at noon;

but then I thought better of it
and searched instead
for the right definition to share:

to dig,
fettered to an old English accent,
or plunge,
with its roots
nestled in a French countryside;

yet so many words
waited at my doorstep,
some in ties and skirts,
some with smiling mothers,
others with postage on their forehead,
I decided to keep looking
for a way to begin,

lingering in the aisles
where introductions pushed grocery carts,
peaking above the collars
of poems in the library,
breaking into their bedrooms
with a screwdriver and notepad;

when finally, I heard enough
like a jury in a courtroom.

Let us begin
with a moment of silence.

No shells from the past,
no trudges through a dictionary's forest.

Let us begin
with the breath before
the voice,

the fire before
the candle,

the dust before
the polish;

a quiet opening
that winds
to a softer,
softened
end.