“I Am Not a Fan of Poetry”

I have never been a fan
Of poetry.
I feel for Raymond Carver
Completely when he said
That poems are the last thing
He reaches out for
When he wants something
To read.
Or was it one of his characters
Who said that?
Anyway, once upon a time
I fancied myself a poet,
And I badgered friends and
Acquaintances with my verses.
But when a real poet tells
You that you are not a poet
You better listen
And so I stopped writing
And reading poetry.
I would sooner read the phone
Directory than read poetry.
But tonight
Not even music can touch me.
Not even silence.
Not even films, and sitcoms,
And books can reach me.
While browsing my inbox
I found myself opening
At random
A poem about a girl writing
A poem about her mother
Thanking her for giving her piano lessons.
And I read it out loud
In the kitchen
As my wife worked silently
In a corner.
I read it out loud
And listened to my words
As they rolled down my temples
And into the tip of my tongue.
It’s a rather lengthy poem
But I read it.
I pictured the author in my head
Her hands touching the piano
Her lips praising her mom
Her head bent by the burden
She carried for years in her heart.
And I followed her down the winding path
Of her beautiful poem.