Today's poem is by Gary Soto

The Visiting Poet
       

My poet friend sits in my mohair chair.
He has something to tell me
After the air clears of cigar smoke.

Finally, he sits up, makes his report.
Listen up, Soto, here's how it is.
With eyes closed he recites,

Poetry will stop a mugger dead in his tracks,
Make him skip backwards
As he holds up his pants with one hand
And salutes with the other—
Sorry, prof, sorry.

So says my friend in less elegant words,
His cigar tip burning red as a sore.

I regard his input, rewet my lips
With a sip of so-so scotch.
Is this urban myth? I inquire,
You mean, like, poetry stops crime?

The red of his cigar deepens
When he inhales—Yes, poetry stops crime.
The smoke lifts toward the ceiling.

An idea comes to me.
I ask my friend in the endowed chair
Of afternoon bullshit,
Yeah, but what kind of poetry?

He closes his eyes,
Opens them in a slow rebirth of thought.
He perfumes the air with the smoke
Of a so-so cigar.

Sonnets usually. Rhymed couplets for sure.

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Copyright © 2023 Gary Soto All rights reserved
from Downtime
Gunpowder Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission