Assumptions

Terrance took the darkness of his left hand
to the smoothness of his black scalp.

He thought so deeply, I watched him drown
in his own brown eyes. But it was words

He said it was words at least. And demanded poems
are here for clues. not meaning. Parenthetically,
he said, "(I rarely know what I've written until I read it.)"

You should be talking about meaning.
I said nothing.

You shouldn't be talking about meaning.
I said nothing again.

Terrance said, "Poetry is the language of suggestion
not the language of meaning, everybody knows that."

Shut up Terrance,
everybody doesn't know
any damned thing.