For the creator must be a world for himself….      
                                               –       Rainer Maria Rilke
                                                        “Letters to a Young Poet”  

He makes me feel
abandoned at a border
hording verses
in my pocket
like gold to bribe 
the guards
But they’re not

I take them out at night
try stitching them together
whittling away ’til something
like a rustic poem takes shape
I wonder what he would say to me
though I am not young
and not quite free