A Poem Is Not for Sale
A poem is not for sale,
so it must be stolen.
Surveil the inroads and outroads
and bide until the silent night.
Mark your visage in soft black,
put sneakers on your feet.
With diamond slice the glass,
through the hole stretch your hand,
and undo the securing latch.
Turn the combination on the safe,
and all throughout, remember: Shhh.
