What’s Done in Secret
Writing poetry seems the most secret
of all gifts and giving to the needy.
No worries about a trumpet in the street.
And that left-hand/right-hand warning—
how could the other know? Cause
the words travel down just one arm
to one hand—the one you’ve always used—
and end in lead. In words
that weight the page like a sinker
on fishing line. So, fish for men,
and leave your catch just after dark
in buckets on a stranger’s unsuspecting steps.
What’s Done in Secret
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