Bread Crumbs & Bouquets

Imagine this: in a poem, the diving board over the poolmight become part of a bridge, one that drops you intoa secret new glimmering afternoon beneath the surface.A poem can be stuffed with confetti, or ravens, or moonbeams. It can fill you up more than a blueberry muffin,or a slice of spinach quiche, or a whirl of cotton candy—especially if your poem happens to contain a few cloudwhisps that are lightly spun with sugar-pink.The best thing about poetry is, when you find any otherpossibility at its end, that’s right where a poem tends tobegin—maybe even your poem, right here, for instance: