Poetry, the language

cloaked in imagery—

few can speak it,

fewer understand

the way the sound of words

wrap around another meaning.

For most, this forest, 

thick with

foreign syntax,

stands impenetrable 

as a fortress. 

But metaphor—what a door 

to wider worlds!

Yes, plain English needs her voice,

but, oh, my first language. . . .

Must I always hide in prose?