From One Poet To Another

I feel dirty when you ask me to critique your work

your self expression

making stains on the page

all for you

all for show

not for creation.

I protect myself, read with rubber gloves on

forgetting you get a kick out of that.

You insist on performing for me

and the sour taste in my ears

and your scent lingers long after you’ve gone

and it is quite some time before

I can put pen to page, myself.

© Aisling Doherty