When you are absorbed in an online lecture
by a famous poet, and your own poem starts coming?
The famous poet is talking about the voice of a poem,
and here’s the interrupting voice of one that wants to be.

And you say to your poem, “Can you just put this
on pause for now? I need to get back to you later.”

And the poem says, “OK, but I can’t promise you
I’ll still be here, carried as I am by the winds
of your mind, perhaps drifting into another poet’s poem.”

So you sigh, and right there, in the same document
where you’re taking down the famous poet’s words,
you say to the poem, “OK, go ahead. Spill.”

And it does. It does not matter if it’s good or not,
the poem is showing up, its little head crowning,
wanting to be alive on the page. And you’ve had
enough of these babies to know that it’s serious.
It will find someone else if you ignore it.

“Fine,” you say aloud. There will be a recording
of the famous poet. You can listen to her later.

And the poem, liquid and slippery,
appearing as if by magic, as so many do,
grins at you, happy for the attention,

and
waterfalls
itself
down
the
page.

•••

For master poet Ellen Bass, whom the poem interrupted.
You can get more information about her wonderful
Living Room Craft Talks series (she’s currently doing her
seventh and final series) here.

Thank you, Ellen. I will listen to the recording to the parts
of your fine lecture on voice that the poem interrupted.
I promise.