swine 2022 issue 04 – treasure

Page 10

ode to myself as a poet Eli Rooke

This is a patchwork poem comprised solely of my writing from the last year. It is a reminder of how much I treasure my craft, a keepsake of whom I have been as a poet, and a reassurance that I will continue to grow into myself as time passes. I am here. I am everything I have not yet forgotten and maybe that which I already have. I have stolen a stranger’s name; I find myself on accident most days. I long to be a poet. Electricity passes by like crackling constellations and, unceremonious, I didn’t hear the tree fall. Maybe it didn’t mean anything; maybe they were one and the same. I have already written a poem about this. Tell me who I am between the lines. Lost time haunts and I can’t speak. I wish I was brave. I will search, in fear and powerful defiance, for more than what is in front of me. Give me growth. There are so many stories at the end of the universe. I just want it to be true. There’s time left to wonder. I will become the namesake.