I Knew a Poet

A young man who looked softly plump,

vulnerable, and sweet seeming beneath

a lightly witty demeanor. Several women

poets were drawn to what felt like 

innocence. They gushed over his poems,

especially one about a wounded animal 

in a field. He believed the women too hard, 

may have told himself in a rush of conceit 

his work was the apex of poetry.  

When perhaps all the women meant was, 

"Keep at it, it's worth your while. 

You're on a roll." But he was starved for kudos.

He needed it too much. And the women

reflexively gave good words they had known

in their youth. In their eyes, he stayed young, 

a young child needing to be fed.