If it weren’t for poetry
I think I might sleep better
and disregard those dreams
that alliterate the night,
and ride around looking –
looking for new vistas in the dark.

If it weren’t for poetry
I could just look at
red glass bottles and ignore
what hides behind
the refracting light.

If it weren’t for poetry
I might walk on the cool
morning grass, but never
look up to see the sun.

If it weren’t for poetry
words would never project
what I dream or see.

If it weren’t for poetry
I would not awaken.

If it weren’t for poetry.