A Two-Minute Poem

In my advanced writing class, I assigned my students to keep writer's notebooks so that at the end of the unit we could have a poetry reading. I realized that I should read a piece as well, but I hadn't written anything. So I timed myself for two minutes and didn't allow myself to erase, cross-out, edit, revise anything or stop writing until the two minutes was up. Although I am aching to revise some things, I kept it in its original form to prove to my students that sometimes you just need to write and tell your internal censor to shut up. Try it sometime.

So here is my poem.

Berry Picking/In the Briars

You offered me a spot of sunchine and I accepted
taking the soft, warm, sweetness between my lips.
The burst of surprise almost as tart and pleasing
as the pressure of your outstretched fingers as they
lingered on my lips.

The sun-setting shimmered through my lashes
and set off sparks in your eyes
when you smiled at me crouching between the briars.

I picked faster than you--my basket heavy with fruit--
while your harvest rolled around haphazardly
in the bottom of your bucket.
I spent time picking, but you were looking:
Looking at me.
Looking at me looking at you.
Looking.
Laughing.

Feeding me berries.
Feeding my soul