Crossing With My Eyes Closed Poem by Delilah Miller

Something bubbles up in me,
when some poem,
with too much accuracy
paints too clear a portrait.
Laugh because I am echoing my reflection,
in the black and white austerity
of some flat, breathless book.
With a little distance the image is too cloudy,
but when Kinnell spoke so freely
in 'Rapture'
and her stoic face when she's overwhelmed,
so wonderfully moved and he spoke of me...
Or just so closely,
that I felt safe in such a blessing.
I crossed the street with my eyes closed,
like I was daring anyone,
to take such rarity, a muse,
from her loneliness in the bright sun.