Answering the Question
Isn’t poetry all about perfection?
No, No—poetry is all about mistakes.
The poem begins when it gets away
from you, begins to travel on its own
knocks open doors and cupboards at night
boards the wrong train
sleeps with the wrong man
even marries him sometimes
makes him the right one
has sudden children
who are perfectly accidental in their early
or late arrival.
Poetry sits on the bed in a hotel room,
naked (if poetry is honest, it comes into being naked
sometimes)
with two minutes before the taxi,
scribbling these lines.