Poem: Chalk

XMy writing will set your teeth on edge, like chalk on a blackboard.

Chalk My writing will set your teeth on edge,     like chalk on a blackboard,     because I set you on edge as well It has to do with knowing the author     too well,     with the history we share     that makes all words your words,     even if they are mine For if there’s been failure in us     it’s come for the most part     from my side No, don’t argue, don’t take my part     and call a share for your own The husband who is absent, the lover gone,     the father elsewhere All of them are me If someone said writing was for runners,     they said not half enough This frail thing I do     can’t for a moment stand the light     of over-shoulder-looking,     of praise, support     or even understanding Most not of all, the understanding And so I let you see it in withheld pieces,     or a sudden gush,     but never as it’s done Shrugging away the parts I know must grind,     as I have ground It comes to me easily, this unease,     these shaped words that are your words and mine,     left over from pain and joy

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection THE SMELL OF TWEED AND TOBACCO available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.