Voice (to M. Espinosa)

After having just completed

My first good poem

I leapt to my

Feet in front of

My mentor and screamed

I found my voice

He grabbed my shoulder

And sat me down

Saying my dear boy

You’ve just begun to

Whisper and now forty

Years and thousands of

Poems I write with

The raspy voice of

Age preferring to whisper

Leaving the yelling to

The young and wondering

After all of this

Have I ever found

My voice at all