To A Woman Poem by Tim Cronin

Here these unfinish'd poems for you accumulate
Here those words once unutterable find breath, live as you or I
Fear exists not here, nor anger, embarrassment, envy or pain
Tragedy, assuredly, but only in the name of love and beauty

I've made these mistakes at least a thousand times
Ceaselessly circled, circled, circled, noticed, and circled still
Ne'er looking left, ne'er looking right
Obediently following the hands of the clock, the snap of demanding fingers
Which mistakes still penetrate you, I wonder

Henceforth, I propose a new mistake
One which will not leave my poems unfinish'd
A mistake which shall my poems finish

Those words once unutterable have escaped
There was no blood, only misinterpretation