by Samuel De Lemos
Poets don’t go to
heaven or hell
they stay in purgatory
in the twilight
of Earth’s domain.
To bring living poets to madness–
reciting sublime lines in their sleep;
then forgetting them when they wake up.
Or while driving their cars on errands and never
remembering that beautiful saying
Dante wrote about
it in terza rima:
How poet’s when they die are gathered
into the bosom of the poet’s den;
each bringing their expertise—
how beautiful it was to be alive!