their poetry
my kids
don't figure in my poetry
they're perfect the way they are
unstained by my ink
i wouldn't want to rewrite them
just look and see
they're lovely
best to leave them out
but their noses
perfect you see
keep poking into the words
pushing the pen across
the skins of trees
their thoughts like change
shape forests
uncover the sun
their movements
perfect
(can you hear?)
wake me
and i think they're poetry
and i'll let them
continue to shake the treetops
down
change the seasons
move my world
and write their selves
until they too write poems
where I don't figure in
“their poetry” was originally published in Neo Verse: Northeastern Ontario Poetry. The copyright of this poem remains with me, Monique Chénier. Please credit me if you share it, and kindly direct people to my website.
Monique Chénier - Author 