Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v5. – a Comical, with a pencil nick version

Where the poem hides

The binding cradles the pages—
waiting to be filled. A pencil nick
pricks the margin like a ridiculous wart.

Like a sculptor, I believe
the medium can hold the art;
I tap, I shave, I whistle at my mistakes.

Study the lines and textures;
the surface is coy. The nick keeps secrets:
a stub of an idea, a failed comma, a joke.

Only impulse frees
the poem from the page—sometimes it sneezes out,
stumbles into the room wearing yesterday’s hat,
asks politely if anyone’s seen a stanza.

Effect: the pencil nick makes the poem playful and human. It lightens the conceit by turning craft into a domestic, slightly absurd misadventure.