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The Objective Corrective



From everything that others see in me
that I can't see, remove everything that would appall me
and distill all that would thrill
into a nurturing nectar of individual glory.
I take it.  I drink it down.
It's cool, and tastes of fresh-cut grass.
I am restored to what I never was but might have been.
Or might not have, for what do they know
of what I am?  Of what I have within
and what I've relinquished to necessity,
to chance, to disappointment?  Stack
all I once had and now lack, make a heap
of all I dropped and didn't keep:
this, too, is me.  Was me.  Could be.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.