Whatever it is
it is not anything that would matter to you it is
not broad and daunting like mountains or sky
not cunning or sweet or childlike it is not tragic
or strange not well rendered or careful or more
intelligent or better informed it knows nothing
about history or logic it is not what it wants to be
when it grows up not what you want to be either
it is not better at remembering or forgetting it does not
choose fancier words or make fine political
hay it does not belong to the club does not exercise
daily does not read the works of proust aloud
does not control its appetites does not have sex
in all of the positions or sing in tune or play
the piano it cries in bus stations and the doctor’s
office it cannot tell just one lie it tells dozens and
all of them are obvious it forgets to wash the dishes
it is too fat for those pants it mutters to itself
in the grocery store it smells funny and other people
look away it is wrong it does not beg it does not smile
it does not say excuse me or may I help it is
the last one picked for the team it is older
than everyone else in class it hides under the stone
unturned it sleeps till noon it cannot speak any
language except television it is the also ran the amateur
mourner the bald one with the small tick lodged
in its ear the leftover ham drying out on the plate
it is the body found when the hotel collapses what
the mailman forgot to deliver it assumes the worst
it is not hungry it is the wallflower at the dance
with the bomb under its dress it cannot change its ways
Self-Portrait as Memorandum
Dear sir I request
attention to whom it
may concern which is
my concern dear sir
dear colleague I beg
a favor I suggest a strategy:
Destroy after reading
in re my thoughts
I attach a graph
kindly do not photocopy
dear sir dear sir
I am your obedient servant:
I beg you to reconsider
do not forward
for your eyes only I request your
presence your signature your
identification code
do not repeat:
Remain prudent
highlight in three colors
file under routine
under top secret under
to be shredded
dear sir:
I lie upon your blotter
fold me
spindle me
you know
they are listening at the door:
Dawn Potter is the author or editor of nine books of prose and poetry—most recently the poetry collection Accidental Hymn. A finalist for the National Poetry Series, she has also won a Maine Literary Award for nonfiction and has received grants and fellowships from the Elizabeth George Foundation, the Writer's Center, and the Maine Arts Commission. Her poems and essays have appeared in the Beloit Poetry Journal, the Sewanee Review, the Threepenny Review, the Times Literary Supplement, and many other journals in the United States and abroad. Dawn directs poetry and teaching programs at the Frost Place as well as the high school studio writing program at Monson Arts. She lives in Portland, Maine.