Imagine as a poet
that you must
lose poetry
for the rest of your life
may not read,
or speak it.

You would need
to rely
on body language,
as any sentence
uttered aloud
is rendered
purely because
it has happened
at a time
after any other
we can recall
at the moment.

Such a task
would wear
on the soul,
then one day
you’d suddenly
start stripping
anger from a lemur
found dawdling
near headquarters
who now really wants
nothing more
than to go home,
as all the anger
has been removed,
exorcised, perhaps.