Your mistake is believing
you have to create
the poem
don’t you know
it is already there
inside the orange
skin taut with juice
on your lover’s back
suspended by scapula
in the cat’s belly
loose flap of napping flesh
your job is simply to wait
for your indifference to pass
for the moment when you see
what you are looking at
only then will the poem feel safe
to lay itself down
on the page.