Sometimes the poem <br />doesn't want to come; <br />it hides from the poet <br />like a playful cat <br />who has run <br />under the house <br />& lurks among slugs, <br />roots, spiders' eyes, <br />ledge so long out of the sun <br />that it is dank <br />with the breath of the Troll King. <br /> <br />Sometimes the poem <br />darts away <br />like a coy lover <br />who is afraid of being possessed, <br />of feeling too much, <br />of losing his essential <br />loneliness-which he calls <br />freedom. <br /> <br />Sometimes the poem <br />can't requite <br />the poet's passion. <br /> <br />The poem is a dance <br />between poet & poem, <br />but sometimes the poem <br />just won't dance <br />and lurks on the sidelines <br />tapping its feet- <br />iambs, trochees- <br />out of step with the music <br />of your mariachi band. <br /> <br />If the poem won't come, <br />I say: sneak up on it. <br />Pretend you don't care. <br />Sit in your chair <br />reading Shakespeare, Neruda, <br />immortal Emily <br />and let yourself flow <br />into their music. <br /> <br />Go to the kitchen <br />and start peeling onions <br />for homemade sugo. <br /> <br />Before you know it, <br />the poem will be crying <br />as your ripe tomatoes <br />bubble away <br />with inspiration. <br /> <br />When the whole house is filled <br />with the tender tomato aroma, <br />start kneading the pasta. <br /> <br />As you rock <br />over the damp sensuous dough, <br />making it bend to your will, <br />as you make love to this manna <br />of flour and water, <br />the poem will get hungry <br />and come <br />just like a cat <br />coming home <br />when you least <br />expect her.<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poem-cat-2/
