I look around the room, and
I look around the room, and
there are no poets here, only poems.
poems, only words spaced out on a page:
stitched together on digital cotton,
syntax like fabric, line breaks like leather.
there are no poets here, only weavers, menders,
healers, soldiers. who, hearts torn
wide in a trench of commas, march forward,
their trade: a cry of aesthetic
desperation.
(I look around the room and)
there are no poems here, only poets.
poets: only pens scratching paper, stories
with folded corners and tender edges—
their spines bent, doubled, embossed with coffee
and trouble. looseleaf souls yearning to
be gathered, fettered, like letters on a page,
once sojourners, now creator and creation.
Leihanah Weinacht is a junior at St. Olaf College in Northfield, MN, pursuing a dual
degree in English and Biology. Her poetry has appeared in The Quarry and is
forthcoming in The Tower. When she isn’t writing, you can find her hiking, playing
guitar, or baking banana bread for her friends.
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