Eating Poetry

Eating Poetry
by Mark Strand


Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

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I love this poem. I discovered it in an anthology I found at work. Sometimes, you just want to EAT poetry. You're HUNGRY for words, for art, for meaning. You consume it--and it changes you.

It's kind of like the scripture 2nd Nephi 32:3

Wherefore, I said unto you, feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do.

Feasting on words is such a fabulous image. Sometimes I wish my students could catch a glimmer of this...the power of words.