a poet

I have loved the moon,
worshipped men
with four-letter names
for their script.
Or, I have like to think I have
been a poet.
I have woken up
to grinds and dregs and tepid
coffee mugs
I have lost my place,
my thoughts have escaped
but I still worship the sun
and put pretty names
to pretty things
Myself, a poet
over coffee at night
when I lose my place.