Boy Poet Meets Girl Poet
I met a poet at the Y.
We lifted weights and weighed up books,
a sharp departure from the norm,
which earned us several dirty looks.
He offered Frost; I countered Plath.
He showed me his; I showed him mine.
I ‘spotted’ him on his bench press
and asked him if he knew the line:
mens sana in corpore sano,
which still remains my guiding light;
he said boy poets mostly train
to look like they could win a fight.
Previously appeared in Light Quarterly