poetry

30 days of poems: day nine

Perhaps a decent-enough explanation of why I feel sufficient on my own, perhaps not.

Fox

By Rita Dove

She knew what
she was and so
was capable
of anything
anyone
could imagine.
She loved what
she was, there
for the taking,
imagine.

She imagined
nothing.
She loved
nothing more
than what she had,
which was enough
for her,
which was more
than any man
could handle.

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