Poets—sprinkle Words Poem by Mark Heathcote

Poets—sprinkle words onto paper
That, in turn, becomes glass sandpaper
Optician's lenses, they're freely given here
Readers choose what grade they want.

Is it to be abrasive or persuasive?
Interrogative or simple, non-invasive
As readers, we'll ask ourselves.
What will it even be denotive of?

What will rub, off?
Whatever eventuality, we want polish
We want black or white glistening onyx
That's all our readers want, let us be honest.

We might like,
But we don't want clairvoyants.
Prophecy is all well and good
But it isn't sexy or joyous.