SOMEONE ELSE
by Anna G. Potter
Dear sorrow, dear last swallow of coffee,
dear folded-up longing, dear late-evening fog,
I am supposed to write a letter with something
important to say to someone else.
Someone else.
Dear someone else, dear other being, dear alternate life,
dear what’s-his-name, dear story-bearer,
I am supposed to say something important
about you, me, this brief lapse of time.
Time.
Dear time, dear spiraling-dead leaves, dear autumn,
dear spring, dear ever-healing-wound, dear gap,
I am supposed to let you pass with measured optimism,
but you crash and collapse into free verse.
Free verse.
Dear wilted metaphor, dear upside-down simile, dear sideways symbol,
Dear everything-has-meaning-if-you-look-hard-enough,
I am supposed to be your creator, your axis,
without me, none of this would exist.
Exist.
Dear existence, dear burning-lung breath, dear iris,
dear color blue, dear question mark, dear cord,
I am supposed to birth you into being,
an entity separate from me.
Me.
Dear self, dear balancing-act, dear sideshow,
dear coagulated waiting, dear word-hoarder, dear energy,
dear someone else.
