Dear Sylvia
Dear Wallace,
I read your poems on the toilet
that is no comment on their quality
they are quite good – some even great
oft playful, smart, the words well chosen
sounds and pauses line breaks all
at their good and proper places
But I like to read aloud you see
and let the words and sounds and pauses
gather in my mouth and roll around
a bit between my teeth
and spread their taste’s
thick butter on my immeasurable palate
It is also a bare room
sufficiently lit and light grey tiles cover it
its superior door locked
I might not like it very much
if someone were to stumble in
and see me smile
or melt
or cry
