Khaya Ronkainen

At a sidewalk café, I eavesdrop on a conversation between poets. Sensible artists on a sensitive topic of writing about family and friends; people who are always wary of misrepresentation, for they know writers can steal lives for fiction.

I hear writers master great dialogue. But this exchange spans hours. One poet claims a poem is not worth losing a relationship over, the other states truth is like poetry. The waitress looks at me and smiles, “Everybody knows poets are extremely gracious and generous.” I think about poetics of politeness.

If I were a poet— I wonder if it’s gracious to invite an artist friend, whose hurtful comment on social media I wrote about, for coffee. Not to ask permission, but to announce publication. Perhaps we’d need something strong to loosen the tongue.

unrhymed poetics;
an acrobatic movement
between two artists