i.m. Peter Porter

I should have seen

all those words crowded at the door

of Peter’s apartment

when I stayed with him –

so many jostling verbs

outstretched adjectives

and nervy adverbs all

rubbing shoulders with those little

ands and buts and ors, etc.

But I didn’t. His shepherding voice

and kind manner ushered me

past them. They were there

as usual, but for another time

when he could invite them in

– his customary friends – undistracted

by visitors, so they could roam

and explore, until with patience

and a home-made miracle

their jostle would subside

and they would converse with him

and later, on the page

with us.