[Critique Group 2] poem for critique session on 9/26

[Alice Massa]

NOTE to Group Two writer friends:Did you labor on Labor Day?I decided to 
start a tradition of laboring on a new poem each Labor Day.Thus, I wrote 
the following poem on September 2, this year.Since Labor Day, I have 
tweaked a few words and am finally sharing this poem with you for our 
critique session on September 26.In this poem, I have coined the word 
"bitterfly."

*A cautionary Tale, without Warning*

aspiring poem by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

Bonjour.

I am a poem,

resting on a cloud of fiction,

from where teardrops of nonfiction

periodically emanate.

Now, dear poetry reader,

a cautionary tale--

or what should have been a Cautionary tale.

Postmarked with friendship,

a letter arrived post haste;

however, the letter should have been sent

by special delivery with a warning label.

Without said warning,

the recipient was suddenly

enveloped into the insensitive morass

of unkind, uncaring, unknowing words--

the only weapons that target the poetic soul.

I advised her to open

her umbrella of understanding.

I encouraged her to catch the words

in a bitterfly net.

I pleaded with her to toss the letter

into the forgetting file or fire,

but she has no Victorian fireplace.

What is her place?

She is the one

who will read

the words of weaponry only once:

she will not give the writer the satisfaction

of a second read--a second blow.

Now, with decades in her heart pocket,

wiser and more patient,

she, who loved and once taught debate,

will not give the writer the satisfaction

of a reply or rebuttal.

Unanswered letter

was a flag to the few who read it;

but only one prized individual

whispered a kindly, caring word of regret

from a blessed and crystalline conscience.

Will he ever fully know

how his lone feather

pushed away the weight of those wrenching words?

I coax her to read this commemorative stamp:

"Some friendships grow with grace and gratitude;

other friendships are punctuated with patience."

What was the date of the postal cancellation?

I close with telling her:

"Cancel the moment,

move on, move on."

I am a poet,

resting on a cloud of fiction.

in my cumulous or nebulous state,

I convince her to join me

on said cloud

where we will share

a dessert of

poetic retort.

number of poetic lines:54

number of words:313

September 2, 2019, Monday, a poet's Labor Day

  ajm321kh at wi.rr.com

9/17/19--USA Constitution Day


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