What Nobody Knows About Poets

   by Leslie Clark

That we live in the real world, 
with everyone else
but sometimes it impacts us 
with the force of a meteor.
We take everything personally:
the weeping of clouds,
a harsh glance,
a chance remark,
any animal victim of a vehicle,
the relentless whining of the wind.
That there are occasional days 
when we play the music
of Bach, or Beethoven,
Joni Mitchell, or Carly Simon, 
and sob all afternoon.
Emotions from thirty years ago 
are as present as yesterday’s,
and may materialize in verse at any time.
That sometimes, it all seems 
too threatening for us to emerge 
from the nest of our beds.
But on other days we stay there
to bask in warm contentment.
Our joy touches
the face of the cloudless sky,
and we laugh as outrageously
as we cry.