A Poet @ the Festival

for John Newlove

The first time I saw you, heard you read
I found you old beyond your years
to my surprise

You wore your frailty poorly –
the timbre of your voice, your hands
trembling as leaves must before they fall

I wished youd let me stand behind you
place my arms under your arms
my hands under your hands

We would be strong together
and it would look as though your hands
turned the pages with ease as you read

But I would not speak for you

No, your words are…well…
yours to say as long as you can
and then for us to read to ourselves


JC Sulzenko

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