Aletha Irby
plainspoken
though he is no writer
my father writes to me
his letters functional but tone-deaf
without the christmas lyricism
of his sister's missives
yet aloud he speaks
with eloquence unquestionable
as long as simile and metaphor
which elude him
are avoided
any flourish lands him flat
on his face
his proper pace
a cadence ungraced
sticking to facts
unfettered by poetry
Bio
Aletha Irby is very grateful to have been granted this time, on this planet, to spend with the English language.