I would braid the lines together,
making nouns into verbs, and letting them
tumble along like rapunzel's hair
for all of you to climb.
I would stop keeping secrets,
tell the truths that must be told,
and I would be willing
to lose control,
to burn things down,
If I were a poet I would travel the sky at night,
gathering the light from every star
and place them in a ceramic bowl,
like a still life of poignant observations
sitting on my kitchen table
glowing like polished apples.