Edward Coletti

A Treatise On 'What' - Poem by Edward Coletti

Why write What nobody reads?
Why does the pigeon disturb me?
Why are the marigolds bright but so empty?
What does my lady dog want?
How long since my father was joyful
When he told me I was a good driver?
Who is this being called Mother?
She laughs and tells all that she loves them.
Does she? It’s new. Or strategic?
A baby is darling and clings.

Should I golf or play chess?
Is there work? What of pay?
What of friends? Are these all?
Where’s my wife? Flown within.
Shall I hike the Yosemite?
Family, family, family, fam

Perhaps in Philosophy’s
What is the meaning of meaning
What is all it’s all about
What’s What
what it’s all about, Alfie.

Between my father and myself
lies - What
Time - 30 years
Space - Between two elders
61 and 91
What and What
Distinguished by What
By What.

Why write What no one will read?
So I’ll vacate myself
As the marigolds do
To the ozone of fog
In the filtered daylight
While What in a bathrobe
Stops writing.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 8, 2006

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