How lucky you are, <br />smeared in a sickly talent. <br />Tell me! <br />I must know; <br />where and how, <br />this ability was born, <br />to write such words; <br />that rhythm so tight, <br />I've never <br />heard or seen. <br /> <br />Do you think <br />it is inherent, or <br />learned by fastidious <br />candle practice, <br />on dark nights <br />when we mortals <br />hug pillows, or <br />dirty-talk with spouses <br />beneath the flapping sheets <br />and sails of galleons? <br /> <br />Or maybe, just maybe, <br />you are helped- <br />from beyond the grave <br />by sleeping poets, <br />who now rest in cold <br />unscripted granite beds. <br />Do they ghost-whisper words, <br />incoherent, <br />to undeserving me?<br /><br />Ian Bowen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/written-in-envy/
