—for Jude Janett
It was cold,
and so
when she said
I am not
a poet,
I mean
I write them,
but only
to survive—
I don’t think
I even
like poems
I watched
as her words
turned to mist
in the air,
swirling
transparent lines
that danced
before they
disappeared,
and
I knew
there was
never
a poet
more true.