Poem #35: "Detective"

I am looking

for poems 

on the street. 

Walking by, 

I question 

raw phrases

who, what, 

why they are 

(like cotton 

coaxing yarn)

and soon enough,

voila,

fashioned

from some 

mother’s letter 

or airy rhyme

of the kneeling 

street-sweeper,

poems, so bone-

button-thin-

whisper-wide 

like feathers 

or toy wheels

shiny salmon 

turning back

upstream, 

to spawn

anew.

so in truth

poems, 

(at least mine) 

are not from

wholly significant

words, but 

that’s being

a detective

for you.