Michael Keshigian: Thief

Two days ago

the sun caught me stealing light

to illuminate a poem,

demanded restitution,

then reported me to Mother Nature

who posted my likeness about the land.

Soon, the ocean, forest, birds, flowers, et. al.

filed suit for substantial abuse

and complacent philandering without permission.

I pleaded guilty;

admitted taking breath from wind

for deliverance,

marshmallows from the sky to sweeten song,

and rage from the ocean

to instill a sense of urgency.

Convicted and confined to a windowless room,

no writing, visitation

or glimpses of stolen sights,

I was sentenced to imagine beauty

without embezzlement

and the wholesale exploitation of words.

Copyright Michael Keshigian. Reprinted here by kind permission of the author.