CLAIM Poem by Ruth Lasters

If I were a road, I'd claim the right to strike. Occasionally not having to run
dumbly from point A to point B, but suddenly
bend to an elsewhere, unspecified, without destination, landmarks. Full of people
who from purposeful travel, all at once stray into

a quite absolute stasis. And a poet who then whispers a
direction in their ear, hints on orientation
though on condition that they recite by heart

a poem of his, for example this (Slower!
Softer! Pauses for breath!) Be warned: at each wrongly
mumbled line, the road will fork and twist
still further.