Painless Labor Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

My poetry is not born of labor
Grasping for phrases
Gasping for assonance
Groping for rhymes.

My poetry is not a work of sweat
A dripping of syllables
A wringing of images
A wrinkled handkerchief of stanzas.

My poetry is not meticulously crafted.
It is not mechanically drafted.
It is not scratched out
As quickly as it is written.

My poetry flows
Or it doesn't.
I do not force it to come.
But I invite it.

Like old friends,
Lines descend when I am settled.
They seem to sense when I am attentive
To whisperings usually too wooly
To be carded and spun
Into something intelligible.

But left to myself
I begin to see strands
That can be tugged and twisted
Woven and knitted
Even embroidered
With finer threads
To create a textured tapestry
Of euphonic mythology.