For Carol Ann Duffy

I have searched for you under many a mulberry moon;
perused an onion,
for what better way to learn a thing or two about intricacies
than to look through your eye?
Take it. Take my wholesome poems and devour as fruit,
we pay up
to a certain extent when we set out to own the truth;
grey smoke billowing,
a gossamer veil
separates us, could it be so that
we would come face to face from behind
a portal of decades—
whatever I have bred,

comes directly from heart, from your English garden.





Photo credits: Elena Katsyura Oil painting, Pinterest

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Posted for Poetics: “Poems to a Poet,” @dVerse Poets Pub