The Writer's Forum

"Today we will write poetry",
the lecturer said,
what he meant was,
that today we will,
put words in short lines,
that endstop or enjamb,
thoughts and emotions,
halfway across a page,

we,
the would-be writers,
and poets,
listen with,
bored attention,
to the patronising pomposity,
of someone,
who knew someone,
in a publishers office,
once,

they,
the class,
sit pens poised to write,
as they worry about issues,
of voice and addressee,

I,
the I who might not be I,
who might be a persona,
a subtle construct,
a third person,
hidden by diction,
or who might be everyman,
(and woman),
the lecturer,
or a stone or a worm,
or God,

I,
the I who is actually me,
(whatever that is),
writes this,
and worries,
if the shops will still have,
milk when I am,
on my way home.