Take Me In

"Take me in,” the poet said, “take me in.” The prophet hid.

“Take me in,” the poet prayed, “take me in.”

No banker paid. “Take me in.” The soldier fled.

“Sink or swim,” the lawyer pled. “Take me in,” 

the poet said, “take me in.”

A woman did.

“Make me warm,” the woman cried, “safe and warm.”

The poet sighed.“Words are thin,” he did reply, “weak and thin. 

But yet I’ll try.

Weak and thin, but yet I’ll try.”

In the bin by page by page,

in the bin the books were laid,

inch by inch were set ablaze.

Line by line the match was lit.

Word by word 

the poems all went.

“Now I’m warm,”

the woman said, “safe from harm.

But poet’s dead.”

Poet dead? 

Poet dead?

He lives on inside her head. Words go on

inside her head.

-- Duane Vorhees